I debated for all of two seconds before turning my back to Bella and crouching down as if I was still searching. With my right hand I opened the bag, expecting to see a wallet, lipstick, maybe a breath mint or two. I tried not to gasp at what I saw instead.
Inside Bella’s purse was a mini arsenal, complete with a box cutter knife, pepper spray, a steel nail file, a long circular object, and the most compact gun I’d ever seen—not that I’d seen many. Aunt DeeDee had kept one in a safe in the loft—for emergencies that might arise with a woman living alone—but even though I’d heard it existed, I’d never set eyes on it.
“That’s not mine,” I heard Bella say from behind me, her breath coming fast as she extended a hand. “But Ineed it.” She paused and took a deep breath in an attempt to keep calm. “Please. Give it back.”
Somehow she made each word sound like a threat, but I could hear something under her words as well: A shakiness, a fear of discovery. Bella was denying that the bag was hers, but she’d brought it—and the deadly contents—with her to meet Anton… and presumably Lacy. What was Bella planning todothis weekend, with her fashionable assault toolbox?
“I said give it back. Now.” Bella spoke with a venomous tone that also reeked of desperation. Just then, something fell from the purse, and I reached down to pick it up. It was a tiny button, covered in ivory fabric. It only took me a second to place it.
“I didn’t… I mean…” Bella stammered, even though I already knew where it belonged.
I watched her turn toward the back of the room, my eyes following hers to where the button must’ve come from. Bella was lying to me about something—perhaps many things—that much was clear.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” she finally finished.
Lacy’s wedding dress was hanging from a bar along the back wall. Since I’d been in New York when Lacy had gone dress shopping with her mom, I’d only seen it in pictures, but those dozens of photos had been taken from every possible angle. The design was timeless—long and flowing—and Lacy had particularly loved the seed pearls hand-stitched into the train, and the long row of buttons running down the back.
I stepped forward quickly, knocking into Bella with my shoulder as I passed her. Something wasn’t right, and as I neared the dress, I could see what was bothering me. There were torn buttons and a slash along the back of the gown.
Someone had ruined the dress.
I swallowed hard and clenched my fist, my nails sinking into my palms in an effort to contain the explosion inside of me, but when I turned back to accuse Bella of destroying my best friend’s dress, she was gone.
With a deep sigh, I turned back to the dress. Perhaps it could be fixed in time? It was only then that I noticed three additional buttons on the ground, below it. Instinctively, I stooped to pick them up. As I bent down, I also noticed a swatch of fabric on the ground. I picked it up too, and although at first I’d assumed it was from the dress, as soon as I touched its coarse threads I knew that wasn’t right.
I ran a finger across the fabric, noticing for the first time a speckle of off-white paint around one edge. This was canvas torn from a painting. But when I quickly scanned the room, all of the art seemed perfect and in place; no random, torn edges gaping from the frames.
I had no idea what the fabric meant, so I folded it and tucked it into my pocket, along with the buttons.
I’d deal with Bella Rivera later.
TEN
The interaction with Bella in the Salon had been strange, to say the least. Finding a mini weapons kit and discovering she’d slashed my best friend’s wedding dress had left me reeling— and I knew I needed to tell Lacy about the latter as soon as possible. The former could wait for now.
I met Lacy as she came around the corner of the darkened hallway toward the elevator. I reached out a hand to steady her so, as Momma used to say, I didn’t scare the living daylight out of her.
“It’s me, Lacy,” I told her, hoping she wouldn’t scream and bring all of the men running.
Despite my calm voice, Lacy jumped, hand over her heart. “Dakota Green, are you trying to frighten me to death?”
“That wouldn’t be a great way to kick off your wedding weekend,” I tried to tease. “I was coming to make sure you were okay. Did Anton head back to the bachelor party?”
Lacy nodded and took a deep breath before she looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re being my lookout, huh?”
“Lookout. Bodyguard. Whatever you want to call it, I’m here for you,” I said, putting on a smile that I hoped would temper what I had to tell her.
Lacy beat me to the punch, narrowing her gaze as she read my expression all too well. “What is it? What’s wrong now?”
I swallowed hard, not knowing how to inform her that her dress might be ruined—and that Bella Rivera was likely the person who’d cut it wide open.
“Tell me,” Lacy practically demanded, her hand reaching out to clench my arm.
“It’s your dress,” I said, biting my lip. “Some of the buttons are torn off and there’s a… gash.”
“A gash?” Lacy repeated, inhaling sharply. “I only just hung it up, this afternoon, when I got here. Who would’ve done…?” But her question was lost as she rushed toward the Salon.
I followed behind her as she crossed the threshold into the place that would be her bridal suite in a day and a half. Lacy’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes filled. She’d always been more of a crier than me, but this weekend had to be some kind of record with how many times I’d seen her tear up.
