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With only a week to plan a wedding, Mike booked a honeymoon suite at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Not a gambler, he chose Sin City for two reasons. First, it took twenty-nine days to get a marriage license in Scotland and they couldn’t wait that long. But the second reason had his palms sweating. He’d ordered coffee and pastries and paced the suite, looking at his watch every five seconds.
Where the bloody hell is he?
Henri came out of the bathroom, dressed in yoga pants and a t-shirt that read, “badass sharpshooter”. Probably not the best choice for the morning’s meeting, but it would do. She’d found the shirt in the Vegas airport of all places. But she looked like a million quid with her hair partially dry and brushing her hips. Her gaze immediately homed on the coffee table. “Oh, good. You ordered breakfast.”
He stopped pacing and almost told her to wait, but she’d already picked up the coffee pot.
“Just a minute,” she said, a furrow formed between her eyebrows. “Why are there thee cups?”
A bead of sweat trickled from his brow. Good God, put him in a hellhole fighting terrorists and his nerves were like stone, but this? “I—”
The suite’s doorbell rang.
Mike gulped. This was a bad idea.
Henri set the pot down and picked up her cup. “You going to get that?”
“Yeah.” Just do it. If she really loves me, she’ll forgive me...hopefully, by tomorrow.
He opened the door to a man in his late fifties—blond hair streaked with gray, blue eyes. But even with the ethnic differences, there was a familial resemblance. Mike thrust out his hand. “Thank you for coming, sir.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” Jarrod Anderson gave a firm handshake and looked beyond Mike’s shoulder. “Is she here?”
“Aye, but she doesna ken you are.”
“Understood.”
Before they left Scotland, Mike invited Henri’s father to the wedding. What shocked him? Anderson not only RSVP’d, he’d also cried on the phone. The man was elated.
Standing aside, he gestured for Anderson to enter. “Ah, sweetheart. There’s someone to see you.”
Seated on the couch, Henri’s jaw dropped. The cup fell from her fingers. Hot coffee splashed in her lap, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes grew wide and filled with hate and pain. “What the hell are you doing here?” she sniped, instantly on red alert.
Anderson held out his hands. “I—”
“I invited him,” Mike said, moving forward and taking a seat beside Henri.
Her eyes shifted his way. “You what? Why?”
Mike shrugged, trying to ease the hostile tension in the air. “I was surprised he wanted to come.”
Anderson slid into an armchair with a nervous smile. “Once I found out where you were, an army wouldn’t have been able to keep me away.”
“Are you serious?” Henri crossed her arms. “You abandoned me!”
Anderson looked to Mike. “I made a promise to her mother.”
Henri’s spine jolted to rigid. “You abandoned her, too.”
The man shook his head. “That’s where you’re mistaken.”
Henri slammed her fists into the couch and stood. “This is ridiculous.”
“I know it was wrong,” Anderson explained. “I was young and stupid. Your mother and I had been dating for a couple of months when she got pregnant with you. I stayed for the birth. I even offered to marry her.”
“Wait.” Henri held out her palms. “You weren’t married?”
“No.” Anderson bit the corner of his mouth. “And she didn’t accept my proposal.”
Henri looked bewildered. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t a Paiute...I didn’t want to stay in Saint George.” His shoulders fell. “I guess she thought we weren’t compatible.”
Anger and disbelief filled Henri’s eyes. “So, you just left, and decided to never see me again?”
Mike picked up Henri’s cup and poured the coffee, though no one touched it.
Anderson heaved a sigh—the man couldn’t have imagined this meeting would be easy. “Things were different back then. Your mother and I argued—a lot. I don’t even remember about what, but she asked me to leave—told me she never wanted to see me again. She said you would be better off without me.”
Henri clapped a hand over her mouth. “Mama told me that, too. I was better off without my deadbeat dad.”
“Deadbeat?” Anderson asked.
“That’s what she said. She told me not to bother contacting you. You rejected me because...” Running her hands down her face, Henri stopped and gasped.
“Why?” Mike asked.
She held out her arms. “I-I’m not like him. I’m a half-breed.”
“No.” Anderson stood. “You are my daughter. In the flesh. Look at you! You are stunning. You are a woman I could only be proud to call my child.”
Henri stared, the battle raging inside her reflected in her stance. “But you left me. You had a choice.”
“I know.” Anderson cringed. “And I’m not proud of what I did. I owe you an apology. More than an apology. I only wish I could change the past. But know this: No matter what you thought of me or what you may think of me now, I love you. If you need anything. Anything at all. I am here for you.”
“Even with your new family?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?” She planted her fists on her hips. “Hiding in California?”
He gestured toward the door. “They’re here. They want to meet you.”
“Please.” Henri held up a palm. “I can’t handle this right now.”
Anderson shot a doubtful glance at Mike. “Perhaps I should leave.”
“You should,” she said.
“But I’m not leaving you.” Her father squared his shoulders. “I’m just walking out of the suite to give you some breathing room.” He again shifted his gaze to Mike. “I hope you will join us for dinner as we discussed.”
“We’ll be there.”
“We will?” Henri asked.
Mike led Anderson to the door. “If not, I’ll give you a ring.”
Again, the older man offered his hand. “I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity to see my daughter.” A tear streamed from his eye and then he was gone.
Mike’s jaw clenched as he bit back his own tears. But now he had to turn and face the dragon.
Henri stood against the wall, clutching her arms across her chest and looking shell shocked. “Why did you do it?”
“Because he’s your dad. The only one you’ll ever have.”
“But he hurt my mother.” She hid her face in her hands. “And he abandoned us.”
“According to him, he was asked to leave.”
“I’m so confused.” She looked up. “And you! I can’t believe you brought him up here the day before our wedding. Why would you do that to me?” The expression on her face was so filled with pain, Mike wished she’d just hit him. He could take a good jab across the jaw before he could deal with years of suppressed emotional turmoil.
“I knew it was a risk, but now you know. What if you’d gone your whole life without hearing his side?”
She dropped her hands. “God damn you. Maybe I don’t want to hear his side.”
That made as much sense as a floating rock. “Perhaps I was wrong. I’m sorry. If you choose, you never have to see him again.”
“No, I don’t.”
“It’s settled, then.” Mike pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Nothing’s settled!”
***
It didn’t take long for Henri to compose herself. She was nothing if not resilient. Last night, she and Mike had an awkward, but interesting dinner with her family including her father, stepmother and half-sister and brother. They were so different than she’d imagined, so normal. No, she hadn’t forgiven her father yet, but she was open to listening to him. And he did manage to convince her he wanted to be a part of her life now.
Strange, but she liked that.
Better yet, today was her big day. Mike had spared no expense and hired a wedding consultant to help Henri find a dress, take her to the salon and choose flowers. For the first time in her life, she didn’t bother looking at price tags and just let everything happen around her.
Now, she stood in front of the mirror. Never one for fancy dresses, Henri had chosen a short, ivory dress with simple lines that flattered her figure. It had feminine lace—far more girly than anything she’d ever worn. Over her crown, the hairdresser had used a braid with an ivory ribbon laced through and left a cascade of soft curls in the back.
“You are stunning,” said Aunt Chenoa from the chair. She looked to the consultant. “She could have been a model, but she put on a pair of fatigues and joined the Army instead.”
Henri chuckled. “You’d better take pictures because it’s the last time you’ll see me dressed like this.”
“It’s time to go,” said the lady, picking up Henri’s single red rose.
“Are you ready?” Henri asked as her aunt set down her cup.
“The question is, are you ready?”
“It’s now or never.” She took the rose. Yes, she could have ordered a bouquet with a dozen roses, but she liked the simplicity of the single flower.
They made their way to the Terrazza Di Sogno, a terrace overlooking the Bellagio fountain. As Henri stepped outside, she caught a glimpse of Mike gazing out over the water. He wore a kilt of red and blue, and black waist-length jacket. Broad shouldered, tapered waist, powerful hips, and masculine calves. Her knees wobbled a little. Rose filled out the Scottish formal dress like her imaginings of a great laird—a man proud, commanding, and gorgeous. When her heels clicked the tiles, he turned. A grin as wide as the Grand Canyon spread across his face.
Stepping forward with a slight limp, he held out his gloved hand. “Thanks for coming, Eagle Eyes.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lionheart.” She arched a brow. “You look pretty tasty in a skirt.”
“It’s a kilt.”
“I know.”
He raised her hand to his lips. “And you are more stunning than any woman on Earth. Your hair looks like black satin.”
The celebrant cleared his throat. “Are we ready?”
Henri looked at the small crowd—Aunt Chenoa and Martin. Her father, stepmother and two half-siblings. But to her surprise, Logan Rodgers and Olivia Hamilton were there as well.
“How did they get leave?” Henri whispered.
“Garth doesna know. They’re flying back to Pakistan in the morning.”
She smiled at them and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Olivia nodded and waved while Logan smiled. Goodness, they made a cute couple.
“Let us begin,” said the celebrant.
Henri stood, holding hands with Mike and looking into his crystal-blue eyes while they took their vows. Everything was so perfect. It was like floating in a surreal fantasy. Never in her life did she dream of marrying a Scottish spy, a man who routinely chased down terrorists and stopped them from anarchy. He was a man who would fight for right with everything he had and, when he was beaten, he would get back up and fight some more. He was a hero and he was hers.
I will love him until I take my last breath.
If you enjoyed Body Shot, the next in the ICE Series will be Mach One, where the Australian pilot, Luke Fox, is sent into Mexico to infiltrate an untouchable drug cartel. What he doesn’t know is the American woman who gets him inside has been trapped by the villain’s talons most of her life. Releasing on January 2nd, 2018: