Page 11 of Sweet Little Spies

He glanced down and saw a shadow moving through the buildingacross the large patio where everything was set up for the party they wouldhave after the elegant dinner. There were tables and a bar and a stage wherethe band would play. Seth Taggart was taking care of the music this evening,with some of his friends coming in to back him up.

They would dance under the stars and then go on theirhoneymoon.

His gorgeous wife was perfectly fine with her honeymoonbeing in Montreal where he would be attending a special symposium oncutting-edge surgical techniques.

But then neither of them had a lot of enthusiasm for a weekat the beach. A luxurious week at the beach had been the plan in the beginning.Hole up on an island with a staff to take care of them and lay out in the sunand fuck their wife.

It was better this way. After all, it wasn’t like he couldafford to rent a villa in Barbados like Tristan had planned.

He watched the shadow move across the dining hall. Likelyone of the venue’s workers making sure everything was perfect since ChefTaggart was here. Boy, all the kitchen workers had freaked out when they’drealized who would be planning the menu and overseeing the dinner. Not Sean, ofcourse, but his longtime partner Eric Vail was somewhere in the back of thereception hall braising a shit ton of meat.

He was almost certain it was a man who stopped at the doorsto the kitchen and paused as though lost and then turned to walk back down thehallway.

Something about him. There was something familiar about theway he walked.

“Hey, it looks like this train’s about to get rolling, son.”His father stood in the doorway. “You look good, boy. Are you feeling okay?”

His da. Liam O’Donnell had been born in Ireland, but he’draised his family in Texas. Not that anyone could tell given his accent. Hisfather had been known to slip back into Irish when he got emotional. Aidanhadn’t bothered to learn Irish past how to curse and say I love you. It hadbeen his sister who’d made a study of the language of their ancestors.

“I’m good. I’m ready.”

His father sighed and closed the French doors behind him.“Aidan, you don’t have to go through with this. I can walk down there and tellAdam and Jake to get that son of theirs here. Shotgun wedding works for me.”

A smile curled up Aidan’s lips because his father would doit. “I’ll pass on the forced marital vows. It’s better this way, and don’t makeme say anything else, Da. I need some delusion today.”

His father moved in and put a hand on his shoulder. “Allright, then. Let’s go because it’s almost time, and I know you don’t want Carysto be worrying you won’t show up. Let’s get the heavy stuff over and welcomeyour bride into our family properly.”

By properly his father meant with a whole bunch of whiskeyand shenanigans. He suspected there would be a very Irish party at the end ofthe elegant ceremony and dinner. It was probably exactly what he needed. “Let’sdo it.”

He followed his father back inside, gathering the groomsmenwho weren’t currently acting as ushers, seating guests in the gorgeous outdoorsetting Grace and his mother had crafted.

Though it had been Tristan’s mom’s idea. She’d been the onewho’d found this place. It was only twenty minutes west of Fort Worth, but itwas like they were in another world. A simpler world.

“Hey, everything is ready. I saw Sean heading into thebridal suite.” His mother stood in the entry hall. There were lovely coveredwalkways connecting the buildings in the venue. His mother was in front of theone that would lead them all to where the ceremony would take place. The bridalsuite led right out onto the big balcony space where they would make theirvows. The groom, however, had to make the long walk around, climbing up a setof winding stairs. “Everything is in place. Oh, Carys looks so beautiful.”

His father reached for his mother’s hand. “She’s not theonly one. Come along, my darling. Let’s watch our son get married. Aidan, don’ttake too long, son.”

His mom practically glowed as she let his father lead heraway.

Aidan stood at the bottom of the stairs and heard the stringquartet playing above. The afternoon sky was a perfect blue. Everything aboutthe day was perfect with the singular exception of who was missing.

He pulled out his cell. He should have left it upstairs, butthere was some hopeful part of him still praying Tris would change his mind. Hepulled up the number he used to contact his best friend. It was listed as Dr.Jerry Smith in case Carys ever saw the contact come across his phone. Shewouldn’t question a doctor calling him, and there were so many in hisdepartment she wouldn’t expect to know them all.

Keeping secrets. It was what he did these days. He keptTristan’s secrets, and it was killing him.

He typed in what was going to be his last message.

Don’t call me after today. I told you what would happenif you let it go this far. I love you, man. But I have to pick her, and thatmeans cutting off contact. Have a good life.

He hitsendand immediately saw a set of typingindicator bubbles. So Tris had his phone.

There is no good life without you and Carys. I thoughtyou understood. Come on, man. I love you and I love our wife. I’m trying toprotect you.

It was what he always said. Aidan wasn’t sure how to reply.He’d said it all a thousand times.

“I am trying to protect you,” a quiet voice said.

Now he knew why the shadow he’d seen before had seemed sofamiliar. He turned and Tristan was dressed as a security guard with a ball cappulled low on his head.

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