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each
paid two silver ingots with an equal amount promised if they delivered you and
Leo to the compound.” His voice shook with disgust.
Sasha nodded
distractedly. If Bricker wanted them to be taken to the compound alive that
meant he had further plans for them. Adrenaline coursed through her body. Maybe
he was headed to the compound himself.
“Can one of the
men give you directions to this compound?” she asked, unable to keep the
excitement out of her voice.
The former
Jesuit placed a cautioning hand on her arm. “Sasha, I don’t think you
understand, this compound isn’t a commune. It’s a gated stronghold, patrolled
by men with rifles. The locals believe there are dynamite-loaded traps
surrounding it. No one goes there without an invitation. You need to leave this
to the Nicaraguan authorities, such as they are.”
“Can you get me
directions?” she repeated.
His grip on her
arm tightened. “I can. I will not.”
They stared at
one another for a long moment before he relaxed the pressure on her arm. “You
seem keen to respond to this invasion. I can understand that instinct. But you
shouldn’t allow yourself to be distracted from your soul’s purpose. You’re here
to join yourself to Leo for all eternity.”
The adrenaline
drained from her veins as quickly as it had flooded them. He was right.
“No, of course.”
“The wedding is going forward tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” she
said.
That would turn
out to be untrue.
CHAPTER NINE
Sasha leaned against the bamboo lattice
and inhaled the heady scent of the tropical flowers that snaked their way up
the woodwork. The reflection of the low-slung moon shimmered in the
silver-tipped waves, as she watched Jordan and Riley make their way up the
aisle to the strains of Chris’s piano playing. Each of her sisters-in-law had
traded her bouquet for her sleeping infant. And Sasha’s two youngest nephews
nuzzled their mothers’ bare necks as they reached the front of the space.
Maisy, her hair
freed from its updo in the chaos, followed behind, her blonde curls bouncing
against her shoulders. Finally, Naya strode up the aisle, clutching her bouquet
to chest as if it were a teddy bear.
“Are you sure
you’re up for this?” Sasha’s father asked, offering her his arm with a look of
concern.
She linked her
elbow through his.
“Are you kidding
me? I can’t wait to do this. With any luck, Father Alexander will keep
the ceremony short enough that we’re married before midnight.”
He smiled. “Only
you and Leo would react to a failed hostage-taking by moving up the wedding. I
guess that’s why you belong together.”
She smiled back.
They did belong together.
Charlotte and
the resort manager had approached her before la policía had even
finished processing the scene to offer to reschedule the wedding from the next
day to some future later date. She and Connelly had been adamant that they were
not interested in pushing off the date.
“ If anything,”
Connelly had half-joked, “after all this, we’d want to move it up .”
Charlotte had
taken the offhand remark to heart, and forty minutes later, here they were.
Their wedding moved from sunset on New Year’s Eve to eleven p.m. on the night
before New Year’s Eve. She would be Mrs. Leo Connelly before
sunrise—technically, Sasha McCandless-Connelly, but no reason to quibble, she
thought, as a thrill of anticipation shot through her.
Her father
cocked his head and examined the ornate hairpin that she’d hastily used to
secure her hair into an approximation of a chignon.
“Is that Mom’s kanzashi ?”
“Yes.”
Her mother had
insisted she wear it, and she was more than happy to comply.
The bedraggled
waitstaff had gamely lit the tiki torches that were staked along the path
leading to the bower and plated the hundreds of cookies that the guests had
baked back in Pittsburgh and then transported to the
paid two silver ingots with an equal amount promised if they delivered you and
Leo to the compound.” His voice shook with disgust.
Sasha nodded
distractedly. If Bricker wanted them to be taken to the compound alive that
meant he had further plans for them. Adrenaline coursed through her body. Maybe
he was headed to the compound himself.
“Can one of the
men give you directions to this compound?” she asked, unable to keep the
excitement out of her voice.
The former
Jesuit placed a cautioning hand on her arm. “Sasha, I don’t think you
understand, this compound isn’t a commune. It’s a gated stronghold, patrolled
by men with rifles. The locals believe there are dynamite-loaded traps
surrounding it. No one goes there without an invitation. You need to leave this
to the Nicaraguan authorities, such as they are.”
“Can you get me
directions?” she repeated.
His grip on her
arm tightened. “I can. I will not.”
They stared at
one another for a long moment before he relaxed the pressure on her arm. “You
seem keen to respond to this invasion. I can understand that instinct. But you
shouldn’t allow yourself to be distracted from your soul’s purpose. You’re here
to join yourself to Leo for all eternity.”
The adrenaline
drained from her veins as quickly as it had flooded them. He was right.
“No, of course.”
“The wedding is going forward tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes,” she
said.
That would turn
out to be untrue.
CHAPTER NINE
Sasha leaned against the bamboo lattice
and inhaled the heady scent of the tropical flowers that snaked their way up
the woodwork. The reflection of the low-slung moon shimmered in the
silver-tipped waves, as she watched Jordan and Riley make their way up the
aisle to the strains of Chris’s piano playing. Each of her sisters-in-law had
traded her bouquet for her sleeping infant. And Sasha’s two youngest nephews
nuzzled their mothers’ bare necks as they reached the front of the space.
Maisy, her hair
freed from its updo in the chaos, followed behind, her blonde curls bouncing
against her shoulders. Finally, Naya strode up the aisle, clutching her bouquet
to chest as if it were a teddy bear.
“Are you sure
you’re up for this?” Sasha’s father asked, offering her his arm with a look of
concern.
She linked her
elbow through his.
“Are you kidding
me? I can’t wait to do this. With any luck, Father Alexander will keep
the ceremony short enough that we’re married before midnight.”
He smiled. “Only
you and Leo would react to a failed hostage-taking by moving up the wedding. I
guess that’s why you belong together.”
She smiled back.
They did belong together.
Charlotte and
the resort manager had approached her before la policía had even
finished processing the scene to offer to reschedule the wedding from the next
day to some future later date. She and Connelly had been adamant that they were
not interested in pushing off the date.
“ If anything,”
Connelly had half-joked, “after all this, we’d want to move it up .”
Charlotte had
taken the offhand remark to heart, and forty minutes later, here they were.
Their wedding moved from sunset on New Year’s Eve to eleven p.m. on the night
before New Year’s Eve. She would be Mrs. Leo Connelly before
sunrise—technically, Sasha McCandless-Connelly, but no reason to quibble, she
thought, as a thrill of anticipation shot through her.
Her father
cocked his head and examined the ornate hairpin that she’d hastily used to
secure her hair into an approximation of a chignon.
“Is that Mom’s kanzashi ?”
“Yes.”
Her mother had
insisted she wear it, and she was more than happy to comply.
The bedraggled
waitstaff had gamely lit the tiki torches that were staked along the path
leading to the bower and plated the hundreds of cookies that the guests had
baked back in Pittsburgh and then transported to the