The hotel was not what he’d expected. At all.

Luke let a quick sound of surprise escape, glancing sharply at Benny and the Jets (as he’d come to calling the bully boys in his mind). He doubted they’d heard. So far, he’d been able to school his features, but then he’d been held captive and undercover too long, so keeping a straight face became as natural as breathing.

The hotel had gone all out. This was what wealth did. Enormous wealth. The caterer and cake maker and designers galore stood proudly behind enormous tables, each with a display vaguely reminiscent of his eighth- grade science fair. Only instead of trifold cardboard showing the effect of caffeine on plant growth, or how to transmit sounds underwater, there were pictures and samples and displays showing great accomplishments of the past. One table held tiered trays, each holding a handful of tiny, beautiful cakes. Wedding cakes in miniature, he realized in horror, wondering at the sheer amount of work that went into decorating something the size of a cupcake just to give them a chance to sample the flavors offered.

Silly him, he’d thought the question would have stopped at vanilla or chocolate.

If I have to eat one of each one of those, I’m going to be sick.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t likely complain too much if they decided to hold him without food again.

Dani had drifted toward a table of linens. Cascades of napkins in every color of the rainbow competed for attention with place settings. She picked up a scarlet napkin with embroidered white doves, her mouth forming a soft ‘o’ of surprise that softened her features and reminded him that she was, in fact, a very beautiful woman. He found himself watching her as she touched wineglasses, picking up and setting down a napkin folded into a swan. Funny how he’d never pegged her as someone who would care about such things. Maybe he should have known. Maybe all women loved weddings on some level, and daydreamed about being princesses.

Yeah, and you’re just some sexist male putting the opposite sex into a little box because you’re more comfortable thinking of them that way. What you don’t seem to want to realize, you doofus, is that Dani might be the one who wants to be a princess on her wedding day, and you’re not the prince for her. And in fact, dick- head, you’re ruining what’s supposed to be something very special. She doesn’t want to marry you. She only said that to save your life.

Even as he thought it she raised her head, and something shuttered within her eyes. She dropped the napkin and turned away, but not before he glimpsed the sadness she fought so hard to conceal.

He started toward her, only to be blocked by a waiter carrying a tray of tall champagne flutes. Champagne. Just shop for wedding supplies. He waved him away and tried to walk around him, only the waiter walked with him, getting underfoot.

“Ahem.”

Luke knew that sound. His head shot up. What they said was true. Wait staff are always invisible. How the hell he’d missed it he’d never know. Distraction probably. But the waiter was Frank Wellington. He was also a cop. One of Randy’s men, and someone Luke knew quite well.

I’m losing my touch.

“A drink, sir. To celebrate the occasion,” Frank said, and handed a glass to Luke. He then moved on to ask the others if they cared for anything. Benny just frowned and ignored him, Dani took one out of politeness. He avoided the goon squad, Luke noticed, earning him more than one glare. Not that the guys should be drinking while on duty. Apparently, it’s always nice to be asked.

The caterer apparently won the who’s-first toss and they spent an hour debating the merits of finger food and chicken verses salmon. Chicken, it appeared, was rather pedestrian, whereas the salmon was much more...

Luke had suggested the word ‘overpriced’ but was shut down by several sour stares. It seemed that neither Dani nor her uncle appreciated his bitter sense of humor, the only opinion they shared. Tiny courses appeared and disappeared. What Luke hadn’t expected was that meeting with the caterer meant eating several samples, not full dinners.

Miniature versions of chicken marsala and salmon fettucine appeared and disappeared. Luke started to eat heartily, remembering all too well his recent lack of meals, and was scolded soundly by Dani and Benny both. You were supposed to try a bite, a forkful, followed by long discussion regarding flavors and pricing. Luke watched with great regret as the chicken marsala was removed. He’d barely gotten a taste.

Through the ordeal, Frank was there, refilling Luke’s water, making sure it was never less than half full. He was encouraged constantly to drink, to cleanse his palate. Tiny saucers of potatoes appeared. Potatoes au gratin. Mashed potatoes. Potato pancakes. It was like being at a child’s tea party. Luke got better at scooping larger bites before the plate was taken away, and almost snarled when they grabbed at the potatoes au gratin when the ever-present hand reached out to take them. He was allowed to finish that one.

Dani rolled her eyes in exasperation. Benny just laughed.

Frank came at him with more water. His guarded expression was one of urgency, and though it seemed ridiculous that he should be clandestinely contacted, putting himself and Frank at risk for the sake of proper hydration, he dutifully downed each proffered cup, wondering if there was a message in the bottom of the glass he just wasn’t seeing. Or had they etched it on the ice cubes?

The net effect was less rescue and more discomfort. Soon, Luke’s bladder began to insist that he take a moment. Unwilling to miss anything, he attempted to refuse the next round of water, but Frank was persistent.

The next course brought out was various soups. Looking at the teacups filled with a dozen different broths, Luke experienced a feeling he hadn’t had since he was a child. Quite simply, one more sip and he would not be held responsible for his actions.

“You two are supposed to be madly in love,” Benny said, rising and coming to stand behind him. His arms encircled them both. Whether it was a warning of some kind to them, or for the benefit of the staff, Luke had no idea. Probably both. Especially given how hard Benny squeezed his shoulder. But then he’d somehow managed to land his hand right on one of the worst bruises he’d gained from David’s masterful touch the other day.

Of course, Benny very likely knew that.

“Most brides and grooms are somewhat pleased to be making wedding plans; we wouldn’t want anything to ruin the big day, would we?” The words were quiet and deadly, and spoken right in Luke’s ear.

“No,” Luke said. His smile was one part false for the sake of appearance and two parts grimace for the growing need in his bladder.

“No,” Dani said around a huge long-suffering sigh. It was as though all the derision for all males and their inability to grow up was placed in that sound. “No, we can’t have that, can we, love?” she asked Luke, and reached out to take his hand.

She had a very strong grip, Luke noted, and his smile began to fade slightly as she increased it. She must have learned the fine art of making every casual touch count. The sweet gesture soon became a vise from which he could not escape. He tried to squeeze back, but she already had his hand bent just enough that he couldn’t get the leverage to reciprocate.

He leaned over to kiss her neck, and bit her earlobe so hard she nearly yelped in shock and released her hand. They smiled at each other and faced the cake maker.

“Aw, what a loving couple!” he gushed. “I can tell, this one, this is special. You always know the ones that will work out. I always know, I can tell! You two will be a happy couple!”

“Hear that, dear?” Luke said. “We’re going to make it.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and grabbed her wrist and twisted it. She grunted behind a fixed smile and brought her foot down on his arch.

“AH!” He couldn’t hide that one, it really hurt.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, I must’ve stepped on your foot. It’s a good thing you’re so much bigger than me,” she cooed like a little air-head, “or I might squash you like a bug!”

The cake vendor laughed; large rolls of belly fat attesting to the tastiness of the cakes, no doubt, rolled. “So, let me show you...”

The soup had been removed. Had he even tasted it? He couldn’t even remember now. His eyes were on the line of cakes approaching the table. The very long line of cakes.

“More water, sir?” Frank asked.

“What the hell?” Dani turned to him, “I know you’ve only got the one job, but can you calm it down for a moment? No one can drink that much water!”

“Of course, miss,” Frank said with an obsequious bow. It was strange to watch; Frank was the guy rookies prayed they didn’t get as a training partner. He was tough and mean and short-tempered. Now he was meek and cloying, a low-level servant paid just enough to remain poor.

“It’s okay,” Luke said, “but I really...” It occurred to him why Frank had been plying him with water. “I... uh... need to go...” He looked up and saw that Benny had turned around and was paying attention to the conversation and not the glossy images of impossible cakes being shown in a PowerPoint presentation on the screen opposite the table.

“It’s okay,” Luke said again, and patted Dani’s hand. He tried to put a ‘wait here’ signal in that hand pat, but had no idea how to accomplish such a clandestine idea and stood. Benny signaled one of the guards, who walked with him.

“I really am better at this all alone,” Luke protested.

“Just to keep you safe,” Benny said. “Not to go in with you. Unless, of course, he has to piss, too.”

Luke stood and looked at Frank.

“Restrooms are in the hallway to the left, sir,” he said. Luke nodded, and indicated the guard should go first. The man actually took a step before he caught himself, and then glowered at him. Luke wore the first genuine smile he’d had in long as he headed for the restroom.

As he left he heard Dani cussing her father under her breath. Looking over his shoulder, he saw her talking urgently to Benny, who only shook his head sadly, but said nothing at all.

The guard walked into the men’s room and gave a half-hearted look around. Lazily he pushed at the first stall door and looked inside.

“Going to hold it for me while I take a leak?” Luke asked, standing at the sink with his arms crossed.

The man glowered at him, but Luke just waited him out. If there was going to be a wedding, there needed to be a groom. That meant there was precious little the man could do to him. After a long, slow look around the room, at two more stall doors that swung half-open, the guard left. Presumably to take up a position just outside the door.

Okay, so, where is he? Luke looked around at what he expected was a meeting place, otherwise Frank wouldn’t have been so adamant about leading him here. The three empty stalls mocked him. If there was a note hidden somewhere in the room, it could wait. Luke’s bladder was in agony. He stepped to the urinal and unzipped his pants.

As the stream began, he felt a hand wrap around his mouth. The barrel of a gun pressed to his temple. Luke jerked violently and tried to speak, but the hand muffled his words. Slowly, his assailant let off the pressure on his mouth.

“I said, I’m a little underdressed; maybe you can wait a moment?”

Randy shuffled into view, his gun still trained on Luke. The door to the supply closet hung open, still padlocked. Nice touch.

“Good to see you again. Excuse me for not shaking hands, I’m a little...” Luke looked down. “...busy.”

Randy circled the room, gun at the ready. He was jumpy. For good reason. Half the Atlanta mob was in the ballroom. “Do you know how many protocols I’ve broken to be here?”

“Like not interrupting a man while he’s pissing? That’s a hard limit, Randy.”

Randy scowled, lowering the gun slightly as he turned toward Luke. “So was all this for the girl? Or was there money involved?” Each word was bitten off angrily, his dark eyes full of bitterness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The slow burn of anger began creeping up. He finished what he was doing, while mentally counting to ten. There was nothing quite so demeaning as confronting another man while holding your Johnson. He zipped and turned to his former friend. “All what, Randy? Hmm? All what?” He turned and walked to the sink and lathered his hands, deliberately putting his back to the gun. Letting Randy know he wasn’t about to be bullied.

“You were assigned to infiltrate, not to move in and become Benny Bianchi’s little nephew.”

Luke spun on him, hands spraying water as he turned. At the last minute, he remembered the guard at the door and spoke softly, though he wanted to scream. “Where the hell were you, Randy? Huh? I’ve been held prisoner for days now and I get nothing from you! Where the hell were you?”

“Prisoner? In a multimillion-dollar mansion with a beautiful blonde? How could I not see the way you suffered? I hope it doesn’t interfere with your wedding plans!” Randy’s tone was mocking, his eyes hard.

Luke reached over to rip a towel from the dispenser, but it was electronic and dutifully dispensed only a proportioned towel. At least he had the satisfaction of ripping it off, as shallow as that accomplishment was. “He thinks he can get Edwin back here if he marries off Dani. Like that weasel will give himself up just to walk his little girl down the aisle.”

“So, why you?”

“Because I was handy!” Luke snarled, throwing his hands up in the air. “How the hell should I know? Besides, if I went missing, No. One. Would. Come. Looking. Would they, Randy?”

Randy ignored him, moving back and forth restlessly. “Where’s the stick?” Randy’s eyes never left the door. They were running out of time. He was worried about the guard, Luke realized. With good reason.

That didn’t mean that he had to play hardball with him. Luke crossed his arms and leaned against the sink.

“Don’t look at me like that. The memory stick you had, where is it?”

“I don’t have it.” Luke didn’t so much as move. “I tried to give it to you once.”

“That’s when I thought we could get out of this clean, but you really took a shit in the punch bowl, you know?”

“You always did have a way with words, you know that? Get. Me. The. Hell. Out. Of. Here.”

Randy checked the door again, his eyes moving as restlessly as an addict looking for a fix. “I’ll work on it.”

Luke’s eyebrow rose. “You’ll ‘work on it’? Seriously? I need out now!”

“I can’t now. But while I work on it, I need you to do something for me.”

“Really? You want I should go out and get you a pizza?” Luke shook his head and started for the door.

“I want that USB stick.”

“I told you, I don’t have it.”

“Get it. And get me a list of the guests to your ‘wedding’.”

Luke spun on him. “You don’t need that if there’s not going to be a wedding! You don’t need a list of guests if you’re going to get me out of this. Now get me out of this!”

He’d gotten noisy. The door started to open. Randy had no time to hit the broom closet. He ducked into a stall. The guard sauntered in, hand on his gun, suspicious as all hell. Luke tried not to notice as Randy’s feet lifted one at a time to stand on the toilet. Jumpy as the man was, he half expected to hear a splash from falling in.

“I thought I heard voices.” The hired gun’s eyes rested on the door to the supply closet. Luke suppressed the urge to kick it shut.

With a sharp glance at Luke, he started for the stall Randy had dashed into. Biting back a sigh, Luke stood in his way, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. Luke scrutinized the thug; heavy brow, a nose that had been broken more than once. “Too many blows to the temple.” Luke said, tapping the man’s head. The thug knocked his hand away savagely and glared at him.

A quick assessment told Luke everything he needed to know about the bully-boy. He was a brawler, not trained, but used to his size and strength winning his fights. He might have been a semi-pro once, but that was a long time ago. He moved slowly, like he was a giant from an old movie. Some men thought that made them look bigger. It just made them look less likely to win a fight.

“Just you in here?” The guy tried to see past him into the stall.

First of all, if I’m planning something chances are I’m going to lie to you. Why the hell would you even ask in the first place? Secondly, if you’re not checking, you’re an idiot.

“Just me and the big pile of shit someone couldn’t flush,” Luke said, pointing his thumb behind him.

“What, you in here talking to your dick? Or your shit? What were you talking to?”

Yep, he’s an idiot.

Luke sighed. It was always the dumb ones who thought that being crude was the same thing as being tough. It wasn’t, it just marked you as stupid. “My dick’s my best buddy,” Luke said with a big smile, hands spread nice and innocent.

“Well,” the man leaned over and snarled, “I would hate to separate such good friends.” He pulled a knife from somewhere Luke couldn’t see and held it up for him to appreciate. The bright steel flashed in the fluorescent lights.

“Hey, whaddya you know?” Luke leaned back and grinned as big as his mouth would let him. “Now there’s two piles of shit in the bathroom!”

The thug grabbed Luke’s shirt and pulled him close. “You’ve got a big mouth.” He spat the words out like they were weapons.

“Careful, Lassie,” Luke said quietly. “You don’t want to damage your boss’ wedding pictures, now do you?” He could see the conflict in the man’s face. The burning desire to smash Luke into the wall warring against the cold realization of single-handedly destroying the boss’ plans.

He let go. “We’re not done,” he said, leaning in even closer, trying to intimidate Luke by getting into his space, breaking into his personal bubble. “When this is all over, I’m going to find you.”

“Okay,” Luke said affably. “Cut my balls off, shoot me, whatever, just stop breathing on me. It’s like being downwind of the city dump. But you know what’s that like, right?”

“I don’t have to touch your face...” The tough dropped his knife and swung a fist into Luke’s solar plexus. Luke was ready for it, had been baiting the man for an action. He side-stepped the blow and caught the man’s wrist. He twisted as he stepped back, and the thug found himself flying over the tile floor and landing hard, blowing the air from his lungs. Luke dropped to one knee and slammed a fist into the back of the man’s head. It hit the floor hard with a hollow thud, and he lay there, eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“You can come out now, princess,” Luke said to the stall door. Randy’s feet reappeared before the door swung open.

“You have a certain charm about you, you know that?” Randy stared at the man sprawled on the floor.

“I’m also good with children and puppies.” Luke straightened his jacket and headed for the door. “I’ll get you the stick and I’ll try to find the guest list, but it’s only because I think you’re cute. You get me the hell out of this!”

Randy flipped him off. But the smile that touched his lips was grudging. He’d do it. He might not like it much, but he’d do it.

Luke strolled out of the room and into the hallway. His fist hurt. He hadn’t held back when he hit the man; days of pent-up frustration had been behind that blow. In a way, the whole thing had been incredibly stupid, especially now that the thug knew that Luke could handle himself in a fight and would be ready for it. He’d given away the element of surprise, but it would have taken a martyred saint to have held back.

Yeah, Saint Luke... come to think of it, that actually does work...

He straightened himself as much as he could and walked, the very picture of calm, back into the room where his intended sat in a quietly fervent discussion with the most wanted mobster in America.

Damn, I love this job.