Chapter 15
A chill spread through my veins when Vilet gave a short nod to us.
"You're being hailed, Sam," I said. Nothing good lasts.
"Unfortunately, work before pleasure." With a raspy sigh, Sam leaned in the direction of the Vilets, who were exiting the restaurant at a trickle.
I grabbed my purse and trailed behind him, taking on his sense of duty to protect their lives, despite my resentments about Vilet crashing my fake-date, my lack of weaponry, and my deep desire to keep my head attached to my body. Oddly, this type of commitment came easily for me: to defend a happy family from perils Sam and I had both suffered first hand. If I still believed in goodness in the world, it came in small packages like the Vilets' twins, Petra and Petre. And the mama bear in me was determined to preserve ten toes, ten fingers and a head full of lollipops and snail trails for both kids.
Vilet paused at the doorway, waiting for Sam to sidle up to him. Mallory emerged from the hall with Max and waited behind the twins with her hands on her hips, revealing her holster. A highly inappropriate nanny, but a mean guard dog. And there was Max, too.
I scowled at her. Nothing like scaring children with firearms. Mallory rolled her eyes and let her coat flag, covering her weapon. Considering the twins' FBI parents, they'd certainly seen mom and dad's guns, but that didn't excuse Mallory's insensitivity.
Dr. Sylvia Vilet intercepted my path, taking my arm in hers and escorting me behind the men. "You're probably feeling hijacked right about now. And you'd be right."
Sam looked over his shoulder, spotted our entwined arms, and hiked a brow. Playing a good sport, I showed my teeth in an effort of smiling. This was my enemy's wife. Worse, she was a shrink. But she was also the woman who I'd just committed to protecting.
"Come now, Miss Larson, if you can acquiesce to this ruse of a night out on the town, you can certainly humor me with a little camaraderie."
I cleared my throat. "I'm not sure 'acquiesce' is part of my vocabulary."
"Well, I've read your file, so I know you're no stranger to encountering foreign lands or foreign people. Accommodating a bored shrink should be no challenge." Did she think reading my history would impress me or tell her who I really was? Shrinks always thought they could know you at a glance. "My wish for you tonight, Miss Larson, is to have some much-earned entertainment."
Weeks of detainment and psychological abuse earned me one crappy night on a chaperoned date? Oh, joy. You don't have to like her, I reminded myself, just try not to kill her yourself. She's a mom, for God's sake, which ranked above intrusive, officious, know-it-all shrink.
By now we'd entered the ballroom, which they'd converted into a mini casino where the wedding party and guests could gamble the night away. Black curtains encircled the dance floor area to create a more intimate feeling, and felt-covered tables had been arranged in two rows. Blackjack, Texas Hold 'Em poker, Spanish 21, a craps table, and a roulette wheel promised to test those vows "till bankruptcy do we part."
Sam slapped his hands together in admiration of the room, revealing new self-destructive twist to the man with whom I shared my bed, and my dog. Addictions came in pairs, but I'd figured Sam's former drinking habits paired up with his appetite for shoot-outs.
"I thought the Bureau didn't approve of gambling types," I said to Sylvia, who stood shoulder to shoulder with me, no matter how much I leaned away.
"We don't, and typically you won't see anyone on duty participating at real casino tables. But the happy couple is running this show, and their Monte Carlo-themed reception overrides our FBI protocols. The bride is truly her father's daughter."
