cut a desperate glance to Jake. “I, uh, don’t have
it.”
Trench Coat’s face hardened. “You’re lying. You knew we were after it, and you wouldn’t leave it unprotected. It’s here somewhere, and I’m getting tired of asking nicely.” He glanced to one of his cohorts. “Scofield needs a little encouragement to cooperate.”
The gunman gave a tight nod. Raised his rifle.
And shot the man at the end of the pew closest to him.
Screams rose from the congregation. Terrified people scrambled from their seats to run for the door. More shots were fired toward the escaping crowd as the gunmen moved in to block the door.
“Sit down!” Trench Coat roared.
A terrified hush fell over the church, and Trench Coat turned so everyone could see the bomb strapped to him. “I have enough C4 taped to me to blow this church to hell and back.”
A prickle of intuition chased up Jake’s spine. He’d worked with C4 during his navy SEAL training. The claylike material Trench Coat wore wasn’t C4.
And these men weren’t religious or political extremists on suicide duty. They were mercenaries after something Scofield had. Blowing themselves up would serve no purpose. The bomb was likely a fake, a scare tactic to win cooperation from the congregation and deter would-be heroes like Matt.
But the rounds in the goons’ rifles were real enough, as they’d demonstrated.
With the hand not holding the fake detonator, Trench Coat pulled a.38 revolver from a coat pocket and leveled the gun at Brent. “The bead, Scofield. Now!”
Jake rocked to the balls of his feet, prepared to launch himself in front of a bullet or knock Trench Coat to the floor in an instant. “Brent, give him what he wants,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
How could Scofield play his game of chicken with these terrorists when so many lives were at risk?
Brent sent him a stunned glance. “No!”
Trench Coat’s aim shifted twenty degrees. Toward the bride. The. 38 clicked as he cocked the hammer.
“No!” Brent threw himself on his bride, knocking her down just as Trench Coat fired.
In one rapid move, Jake dived for his pistol, rolled to his back and dropped Trench Coat with one shot to the head.
Bedlam erupted as the congregation ducked for cover or ran for the door. The other terrorists fired at will, trying to regain control of the frightened crowd.
Jake scrambled forward and seized the. 38. The fake detonator lay beside the dead terrorist, forgotten.
Over the gunfire and screams, Jake heard the bride shout, “Brent! Someone help me!”
As he rushed toward the bridal couple, lying together on the floor, Jake spotted the blood spreading at Scofield’s tuxedo collar.
He reached his client at the same time as Matt. The other man muscled him out of the way. “I’m a doctor! Let me help him!”
Jake yielded to the doctor but assisted in ripping open Brent’s ascot and tux collar. He balled his own cravat to stanch the flow of blood from the wound at Brent’s jugular vein.
The bride huddled beside Brent, crying and clutching her groom’s hand. “Hang on, Brent. Stay with us. Matt will help you.”
Brent’s fading gaze found his bride’s, then shifted to Jake’s as he rasped, “McCall…”
Guilt kicked Jake hard in the gut. He gritted his teeth in frustration and self-reproach. “I know. You hired me to protect you, and I didn’t.”
“Listen to me!” Scofield grabbed Jake’s wrist with a grip that was surprisingly strong considering how much blood he’d lost.
Jake hesitated when he met the determined fire in his client’s eyes.
“New…assignment. Paige has…what they want. Get her… out of here. Hide her.” Brent struggled for a breath, the life light in his eyes dimming. “Keep…the bead safe…at all costs. National security.. ”
Jake frowned, straining to hear over the continued tumult in the sanctuary. “What bead?”
“Homeland compromised. No police—”
“What bead?” Jake demanded. “Where is it?”
“In…her.” Scofield paused, gasped, gurgled on the blood in his throat. Brent’s gaze darted to something behind Jake. “Go!”
Jake whipped a glance over his shoulder in time to see one of the riflemen approach the altar, then pause to take aim on them.
Hooking an arm around the bride’s waist, he hauled her to her feet and shoved her behind the pulpit. He took cover with her, shielding her with his body as the bullets whizzed past, missing them by inches. Peering around the side of the pulpit, Jake fired back at the rifleman. Hit him in the chest. The man slumped to the floor.
Burying his mouth in the bride’s hair, he shouted directly into her ear. “We’re going out that side door to the limo. Move fast and keep your head down.”
She shook her head, her eyes wide with terror. “But Brent—”
“Just do as I say! We run on three. One, two, three!”
Numb with shock and fear, Paige stumbled as Brent’s hulking best man tugged her arm, propelling them toward the sanctuary’s side exit. Her foot caught the hem of her Vera Wang gown, and she immediately tumbled to her knees. She bit her tongue as she landed with a jarring thud.
Jake sent her a dark scowl of impatience, as if she’d tripped on purpose, as if running in high heels with yards of satin and lace draped around her legs should have been easy.
Shaking from head to toe, she fumbled to untangle herself, fighting the billows of her skirt out of her way. In a daze of disbelief, she watched Jake knock away the muzzle of the rifle that a thug by the side door had swung toward them. Lobbing a fist to the thug’s chin, Jake sent the guy sprawling on the floor, then turned to her. His square jaw was taut, and a lethal intensity blazed in his dark eyes.
Without warning, Jake planted his shoulder in her stomach. Wrapping his arm around her legs, he tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold. The air whooshed from her lungs, and her world turned upside down. Dangling over his shoulder, she scrabbled for something to hold as he charged out the door. Paige fisted his tuxedo coat, but as Jake raced down the steps and across the churchyard, the heavy stomping of his feet bounced her like a rag doll. She groped frantically for a more secure hold, wrapping her arms around the expanse of his wide back.
Jake’s shoulder gouged her belly. His fingers dug into her thighs. His feet and the ground filled her line of sight with a dizzying blur of motion. The bright sunshine and thick humidity of the Louisiana summer day beat down on them as he ran toward the front driveway.
A beautiful day for my wedding, she’d thought
