His lips compressed with unseemly emotion. "Of course, Miss Lauren. Nothing could keep me from being there."
"Good," she nodded decisively, "that's good."
Lauren did not find it unexpected when Thomas turned the Jaguar into the little parking lot of the Catholic chapel she'd visited during some of her lowest moments. She wasn't even remotely surprised when the priest was waiting for them, garbed in a more formal cassock and standing by the altar, surrounded by flowers. Chuck stepped up as Thomas left her, giving the girl a rakish wink as he headed toward the priest and shaking his hand.
"This is for you, Miss Lauren," the bodyguard intoned, handing her a beautiful little bouquet of peonies - her favorite! - in the palest shade of pink. Wrapped with the ribbon was a pretty silver locket, and Lauren could see her mother's photo was inserted there. "Mr. Williams-" he cleared his throat, "Mr. Williams thought your mother should be present."
Now, Lauren was pretty sure she was about to lose it, and since her mascara wasn't waterproof, it took a heroic moment to regain her composure. "This is perfect," she managed, "just perfect, thank you." Straightening her St. Margaret's medal around her neck as she smiled at the stained-glass window of its namesake, she nodded. "I'm ready." Chuck extended his arm graciously, and she took it as he walked her down the aisle.
The elderly priest's words were beautiful, and he smiled upon them both with great warmth and approval. Lauren knew perfectly well that he shouldn't be marrying a lapsed Catholic and - good lord, whatever Thomas could be considered - but he did, the simple ceremony making her feel like her heart was ready to burst from her chest. The man holding her hands and reciting his vows in a clear, confident voice, the solid bulk of his employee who'd come to feel like her father, and the warmth and safety of the tiny church and the priest who'd given her the courage to fight was all-encompassing, overwhelming in a perfect, wonderful way.
"It seems you have tamed the dragon," he smiled kindly, admiring her wedding ring.
Lauren shook her head, laughing. "That dragon is untamable, Father. But he is willing to accept a mate."
They drove home with Chuck following them, the Jaguar wobbling slightly when the passenger attempted to climb over the stick shift to get at the driver.
"Lauren- darling-" Thomas was attempting to drive through London traffic while enjoying the eager kisses of his bride. "I have an exquisite little wedding cake and champagne waiting for us at home- be a good- darling, I love your kisses, but you must-"
Even with his bride's most determined efforts, Thomas Williams, the intimidating new Number One of Jaguar Holdings managed to get them home without driving his sportscar right into a light pole every time her clever little hand stroked over the zipper on his dress pants. And they managed to bid a civil "thank you" and "we won't be needing anything else today," to a carefully expressionless Chuck and the other four men on their security detail before stumbling through the front door and locking, kissing each other desperately.
Thinking back on the afternoon later, Lauren was infuriated with herself, at why she didn't see that the perfection of the day was the warning? A screeching siren clamoring that everything was about to turn to complete crap?
But since she wasn't thinking clearly and even willing to overlook the cake in order to get those pants off Thomas, it was a genuine shock to the new Mrs. Thomas Williams when the gunshot sounded from behind them, a fiery streak tearing through the skirt of her gown and angling upward to lodge in the chest of her new husband.
Chapter 43 – Twelve Hours
In which Lauren and Thomas do not spend their wedding night celebrating their union with the kind of top-shelf sex you would expect from Thomas. But instead, covered in blood on the concrete floor of the Panic Room.
Everything slowed down, the blood pouring from her husband's chest, the"crack!'"of someone trying to shoot the front door open (it would take a while, it was steel-lined) and the sound of footsteps thudding down the hall to them.
It felt like her hearing was muffled, steel wool scraping over her senses and muting them.
Except for Thomas's voice. That first day when he showed her the panic room. "Once the locks are engaged, they do not open for twelve hours, darling."
The memory of his voice, the expression on his face, even his position in the doorway of the panic room were crystal clear. And that particular room was only six feet away. Six feet. It was an incalculable distance when she knew the footsteps belonged to whoever shot Thomas and was about to finish them both off. That's when Lauren's hand slid into his expensive jacket's inner pocket and pulled out the gun she just knew would be there. And when the man rounded the corner to the entryway, the girl's shaking hands were pulling the trigger.
Once. It missed him, but the assassin's blocky face showed surprise to see Mrs. Williams with a gun.
Twice. The second shot struck him in the shoulder and spun him around, and as he whipped back around again, gun raised to finish this stupid, interfering bitch off-
Three times. This bullet nicked the contract killer in the neck. Just enough to tear through the artery there and Lauren's eyes widened to see the spurt of blood shoot out into the room and spraying the wall.
Dimly, she could still hear Chuck's shouts and the sound of his gun trying to shoot out the lock. But more alarmingly, she could hear another set of footsteps tearing down the stairway.The third-floor landing?Lauren thought, grabbing Thomas under the arms and digging in her heels, teeth gritted.Almost there almost there almost there…it was a desperate childhood chant that told her there was only a little more to be endured if she couldjust hurry up-
Thomas groaned, "Get in there, Lauren! Get in and lock the door! Leave me-" But he was pushing hard with the heels of his Berluti Scritto dress shoes, trying to move them along. She shrieked as a bullet went into the wall by his head, plaster puffing out from the impact and showering his suit. But with a heave that she was pretty sure ripped the cartilage off her ribs, Lauren rolled the two of them through the door and managed to slam it shut with a desperate, bare foot.
"Where's my shoe?" she mumbled as she slapped the button that activated the locks.
For a bit, there was nothing but the frantic heaving of their chests, his head on hers and both Mr. and Mrs. Williams trying to get enough air back into their lungs. But when Lauren finally felt something wet on her arm, she looked down to see his chest wound was bleeding with an alarming level of volume.
"Sh- shit!" she gasped, trying gently to put Thomas flat on the floor but wincing when the back of his skull bounced off the floor as she leaped up. The gigantic and well-supplied medical kit was easy to yank off the shelf and her shaking hands unzipped it as quickly as she could. Outside the door, someone was pounding viciously against it, already the meaty "thunk!" of bullets had slammed against the exterior with no effect.
"Oh," Lauren took a deep breath, "okay, sweetheart, we're going to get you taken care of, okay? You know Chuck is outside, totally kicking ass but we have twelve hours in here and I have to get you patched up, so..."
His long fingers clasped over hers, calming her frantic movements. "My good, sweet girl," Thomas said hoarsely, "I am so very proud of you."
Biting her lower lip to keep it from quivering, Lauren smiled at her bleeding spouse.
