The Wedding Trap (Second Service #1)(31)
Author: Adrienne Bell

“Then they’re idiots,” she said.

He laughed darkly.

He was waiting for her by the door when she was dressed and ready, his face impassive. She put her hand up to his cheek.

"For what it’s worth, I’m sorry," she said.

He gazed at her for a long time before nodding and opening the door. They took the elevator this time. He was silent all the way back down. Almost all of her anger had faded away.

Halfway down, Alex’s text alert went off. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and looked at the screen for half a second before slipping it back into his pocket.

"We need to make a quick stop before dinner.”

Beth nodded.

Alex walked through a set of unmarked doors near the restaurant entrance. Bright fluorescent lights gleamed off polished tiled floors. The corridor was clean but industrial, a glaring contrast to the elegance of the hotel.

She didn’t ask where they were going. Off to hear more news, no doubt. It was strange how quickly she was getting used to this new life of hers. She was still afraid, but somehow she’d managed to push it into the background. She could function if she didn’t think that all of this fuss was over her.

Beth looked up. She hadn’t noticed that she’d fallen a few steps behind Alex. Apparently, he hadn’t either.

She scurried forward, trying to make up the distance. But before she could reach him a door swung open and a metal cart slid between them.

Beth stopped short, but not quick enough. Her knee bumped into the side and all the covered dishes on top swayed and clattered.

The waiter pushing the cart looked at her and smiled. It was friendly enough gesture so she smiled back. He didn’t seem upset that she’d nearly knocked over a whole table’s worth of food.

"Hey, you don’t happen to be Beth Bradley, do you?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Good, cause—“

Whatever he was going to say was cut off. Alex appeared and wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, forcing the waiter to bend back at an extreme angle. The man’s arms shot up.

"Dude," he shouted. "What the hell?”

Beth’s hands flew to her open mouth as the waiter teetered on his heels. Alex held him upright, but the poor guy had to bend his knees to keep himself steady. If Alex loosened his grip the guy would crumble to the floor.

"How do you know her name?” Alex demanded. His voice was like sharpened steel, cold and deadly.

"Th-there’s a group in the restaurant waiting for her. I heard them asking where she was.” Alex’s arm tightened around the waiter’s neck. His words just barely squeaked out.

Beth shot Alex a look. He didn’t let go.

"That’s the only way you know her?" Alex whispered into the waiter’s ear.

"Yeah. I don’t know her, I swear. Dude, let me go," the waiter said again. His face was turning red.

"Alex, let him go," Beth said. She didn’t want the poor guy passing out—or worse—just because he’d made the mistake of talking to her.

Alex looked at her for a long moment before reluctantly letting the man slip from his grasp. The waiter clutched his throat. Beth expected some yelling, maybe even a little crying. But instead the guy started grinning like an idiot.

“That was awesome,” he said, staring at Alex in admiration. "You came out of nowhere. What are you, some kind of ninja?"

Alex pushed the metal cart of Beth’s way and took her hand. "I’m nobody."

"Dude, you are amazing," the waiter called after them as they walked down the hall. "Totally sick."

Alex pushed open another set of doors at the end of the hall, and pulled her out onto a small concrete landing. A set of concrete steps led down to an empty loading dock. John Ryman was leaning against a wall at the far end. He uncrossed his arms and walked towards them. When he got close enough he nodded at Beth, then focused his attention on Alex.

"What do you have?" Alex asked. He sounded impatient.

“We have confirmation that another hit has been put out on Miss Bradley."

A knot instantly formed in Beth’s throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it refused to budge.

“Munoz?” Alex asked.

John shook his head. “It was your guy this time. We intercepted another communication saying that his man was already en route to the hotel, and that Munoz was to stay out of it this time.”

Alex’s eyes hardened as he nodded. "Do we know who he contracted?”

“No.”

"So we’re flying blind.”

"Nothing unusual there," John said. "Keep your eyes open and your head screwed on straight. You should be fine."

John cast Beth a sideways glance. He obviously didn’t think much of her head screwing on skills. She couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t what she was known for.

“How are you holding up?” John asked. He sounded concerned, though Beth had the feeling he was more worried about her messing up his mission than with her welfare.

“I’m okay.”

The truth was, she was scared as hell. But at least she wasn’t panicking.

"Do you have anything else?" Alex asked.

"Not now," John said. "I’ll be in touch if anything comes up." He turned and disappeared into the fading evening light.

Alex led her back inside. "You all right?"

She nodded. It was a lie, but what was she going to do? She had to be all right. There was no other option.

"Ready for dinner?" he asked.

Beth laughed a little. Her stomach was currently doing back flips. Her hands were shaking, and she was pretty sure that the burn she felt was stomach acid creeping up into her throat.

"You bet," she said though she had no idea which wine paired nicely with bile.

Chapter 11

Every meal that Beth had sat down to in the last two days had been painfully awkward, and the rehearsal dinner was no exception. She endured stares and whispers, moments of uncomfortable silence. A whole buffet of social awkwardness.

There were good moments too. Isobel had laughed with her. Spencer was seated at the other end of the table, and was, therefore, easy to ignore. And her mother had actually hugged her when she walked into the restaurant. It was as close to an apology as she was ever going to get.

Even with Alex was next to her, Beth kept looking over her shoulder. He kept one hand on her the whole time. He was either holding her hand, cupping her knee, or had one draped over her shoulder. The message was clear.

I am here.

She was grateful for the reminder. His presence was the only thing that was keeping her sane. And not just because of ever-present assassination threat. He helped get her through the dinner with friends and family as well. No matter what, he kept smiling.