A Cold Dark Promise (Cold Justice #8.5)
Toni Anderson
Chapter One
Sunshine showcased the cherry blossoms that lined the Tidal Basin, and glinted off the white marble of the Jefferson Memorial in an almost blinding light. Alex Parker maneuvered his Audi carefully through beltway commuter traffic, as he and his fiancée, FBI Agent Mallory Rooney, headed into the heart of the nation’s capital. They drove downtown, the smell of exhaust fumes mingling with the scents wafting from the multitudes of food trucks that lined the streets. Tourists bustled. Buses full of schoolchildren headed in the direction of the Capitol Building.
He and Mal had rented a condo in Quantico for those nights they worked late and didn’t want to drive back to his DC apartment. Their new house should be ready to move into in a few weeks’ time, after they returned from their honeymoon.
“I’m getting fat.” Mallory smoothed two hands over her rounded stomach. She was twenty-seven weeks pregnant and looked more beautiful with each passing day. That was pretty much how long he’d known this woman who’d changed his life from darkness to light.
“I think that’s how it’s supposed to work,” he said gently. Her hair had grown a little longer than when they’d first met. It now formed a dark cap with the ends just starting to curl around that elfin face. They were getting married a week from Saturday.
“I’m not sure this reproduction business is divided equally between the sexes,” she said dryly.
“Hey, I did my part.”
“Your part involved a few minutes of vigorous exercise.” She sounded particularly unimpressed. He’d have to fix that later.
“I recall going above and beyond the call of duty.” He gave her a salacious grin.
Amber eyes promised vengeance, even as a small smile flirted with her mouth. “Do you now,” she said slowly.
He squeezed her fingers. “I promise to make it up to you after the baby is born.”
Mallory’s eyes softened. “I know you will.”
He let go of her hand to change gear.
“I’m going to look like the side of a barn in our wedding photos,” she mused.
“You can barely tell you’re pregnant.” He loved every expanding inch of her.
She stared distractedly at her bump. “I’ll have to get the seamstress to leave extra room for everything I eat this week. Or starve myself.”
“Hell, no,” he said sharply. “We can get married naked for all I care, but you are not going to starve yourself to fit into some stupid dress.”
One side of her lips quirked. “My dress is a work of art.”
“You are the work of art.”
“And that is why I love you.” Her hands kept up a steady soothing motion over her abdomen. “I don’t think the minister would approve of us turning up naked, but it might be worth it to see the look on everyone’s faces.”
“Give me the word.”
Mallory smiled, and his heart rate settled a little. The idea of her not taking care of herself, or getting stressed, scared the hell out of him. On New Year’s Eve, they’d thought she’d lost the baby. Then, in February, he’d believed for a few horrifying minutes she’d been murdered in her hotel room. They’d been the worst moments of his life, which, as a former assassin who’d spent months incarcerated in a Moroccan jail, was saying something.
“We could always elope to Vegas,” he suggested.
“You wish.”
She was right. She knew him too well.
She grew serious. “I’m sorry I forced you into this rigmarole. I know you’d rather skip all the drama.” There was that twist in his heart again. “It’s just that Mom and Dad…” she trailed off.
Mallory’s twin sister, Payton, had been abducted when they were both eight years old. The family had finally discovered what had happened to Mal’s twin and had laid her to rest last December.
“The payoff is worth the price,” he assured her.
She smiled, but guilt lingered in her eyes.
“I really don’t mind the wedding stuff.” He had to remind himself to not call it “crap” whenever he spoke to Mal. “I just don’t want you stressing about things like how you look or what you wear. You’re beautiful. You being pregnant with our baby is the sexiest damn thing I have ever seen. Every time I look at you I fall in love all over again. Your health and the baby’s are the only things that concern me. Turn up in rags and I’ll marry you. Hell, turn up painted green and I won’t blink.”
“I like that idea.”
“Nontoxic paint,” he cautioned.
“Yes, dear.”
He grinned. They pulled up outside Blissed, a fancy bridal store with more tulle in the window than the Bolshoi ballet. He got out of the car and walked around to open her door.
“You’re going to pick up the tuxes, right?” she asked, gathering her bag and taking his arm so he could help ease her up and out of his low-slung sports car. Most days, Mallory wore a business suit to work. Today, she was wearing a white, cotton sundress printed with yellow daises and a gauzy, white cardigan that made him think of long, hot summers and picnics in cornfields. Her sidearm was in her purse.
“Yes, ma’am. Frazer is picking up his own. I’m picking up the others.” Assistant Special Agent in Charge Lincoln Frazer—Mallory’s boss—was Alex’s best man. His groomsmen included FBI agent Lucas Randall and two former Army buddies he’d reconnected with after years of silence.