LITMIR.BIZ

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had been a target?

      “I’m going to help you.”

      ALEX GRAHAM leaned back in the chair, all his anger spent. He needed to calm down, to sleep, to eat, but more importantly he needed answers. “Thank you.”

      She nodded and he found himself settling down a little. She had that kind of effect on people, he thought, remembering how she was with Caroline earlier that day.

      He studied her, trying to put his finger on what it was about her that bothered him. She was rail-thin, with huge brown eyes and straight brown hair that fell almost to her shoulders. She peered at him through tortoiseshell glasses. A quiet, unassuming woman, the kind who blended in with the wallpaper.

      At least that’s what she wanted him to believe.

      Where had that thought come from? He met her steady gaze and felt both sympathy and compassion and true concern. And yet as he looked into her eyes, he had the distinct impression that there was more to her, something she didn’t want him to see.

      “How can I help you?” she asked.

      He took a breath. “Let me be honest with you, Miss Peters. It is Miss, right?” Was there a slight flush under the cool porcelain of her skin? “I have never met Caroline’s fiancé and quite frankly, I don’t even know how to reach him.”

      “I have a number for him,” she said taking a fabric-covered book from her desk drawer. From where he sat, he could see that the contents of the drawer were as neat as the writing in the book.

      He watched her turn right to the page.

      “Preston Wellington III,” she said picking up a pen and printing the number on a Post-it in the same concise handwriting. She tore off the note and handed it to him, closing the book and crossing her arms over it.

      He stared at the number for a moment, then at her. “You already tried to call him, didn’t you?”

      “Yes.”

      “And you weren’t able to reach him.”

      “I’m afraid not.”

      He nodded, suspecting he wasn’t going to get much help here, either. “And this is the only number you have for him, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’ve tried it, as well, with the same results.” He sighed. “Have you met him?”

      She nodded. “He always came with Caroline for her appointments.”

      “Except today?” he asked, sounding surprised.

      “Yes.”

      “And your impression of him?” He saw her hesitate. “I realize I’m putting you on the spot here, but I need to know what I’m up against. I’m worried sick about my sister. Don’t you think it was more than odd that the only day her fiancé didn’t come with her she changed her wedding plans and then was struck down out front?” He saw something in her eyes that confirmed she, too, thought it odd. “Now no one seems to be able to reach him…. I need to know your impression of him.”

      She nodded slowly. “I liked him. He seemed very nice, very attentive to your sister. I felt the two of them were very much in love, they seemed to be…soul mates.”

      He heard the small catch in her throat, not sure what surprised him more—her obvious emotional reaction to witnessing what she’d thought was true love or that his sister and this Wellington III might really share something real.

      Was it possible he was wrong about the guy? “Would you mind trying the number again for me?” Maybe they would get lucky.

      “Certainly.” She picked up the phone and dialed the number from memory, then handed him the phone.

      With each ring, his uneasiness grew. He got Preston’s voice mail again but didn’t leave another message. He handed the phone back to her. “He hasn’t returned any of my calls or contacted the hospital. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

      She didn’t comment.

      He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. What was he doing here? What had made him think this wedding planner could help him? Maybe she really didn’t know any more than he did.

      But she had met Preston Wellington III, she’d thought the man was in love with Caroline. Then again, maybe she thought all her clients were in love. Maybe the woman was a hopeless romantic.

      He looked into her brown eyes, eyes the color of Cognac. But behind all that rich, warmth was something steely. This woman was no hopeless romantic. There was intelligence there and something else—a wariness that made him wonder if she knew a whole lot more that she wasn’t telling him.

      “I found another number for Wellington in Caroline’s purse and called it,” he said, watching for her reaction. “It was his office supposedly. I was told he was out of the country and couldn’t be reached. Apparently they don’t know when he’ll be back.” He saw surprise and something else register in her expression: doubt. Finally.

      He felt relieved, needing someone else to confirm that his fears might be justified. He recalled the feel of her hand on his shoulder earlier today when he’d been kneeling over his sister’s body.

      “Thanks, Miss… Could I possibly call you something besides, Miss Peters?”

      She seemed to hesitate. “Samantha.”

      “Thank you.” One barrier down, he thought studying her. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something from him. If it had anything to do with his sister’s hit-and-run, he would find out what it was. One way or another. “Samantha, if you’re serious about helping me, then you will come with me now.”

      “COME WITH YOU?” Samantha hadn’t been able to hide her surprise. He’d caught her off guard. She’d known he would come back tonight. He was the kind of man who would demand answers and not give up until he got them.

      But she worked behind the scenes at Weddings Your Way as an agent. And that’s the way she liked it.

      “Go where?” she asked.

      “I have the keys to my sister’s condo and I found what I believe is her new address,” he said, sounding almost embarrassed. Obviously he hadn’t known where his sister now lived.

      He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t go over there by myself.”

      Samantha swallowed, hearing again the raw pain in his voice, and had she been closer she would have placed a hand on his arm and tried to reassure him. But this wasn’t some groom having second thoughts. This was a man whose sister was lying unconscious in a hospital room, possibly dying, a man who was more than a little suspicious not only of Weddings Your Way and why his sister’s accident had happened out front—but of Samantha Peters as well.

      Samantha had shielded herself from this kind of pain, this kind of intimacy. It was why, after completing her training with the FBI she’d taken the job Rachel had offered her. Samantha wanted to work behind the scene. She didn’t want to get close to the victims—let alone the killers.

      “I know what I’m asking is an imposition,” Alex said not looking at her. “But I can’t face it alone. I think Preston has been living with her,” he continued before she could say anything. “There might be some clue as to where he is at Caroline’s place. Or a number or address that would give me an idea how to reach his family. Something.”

      “Caroline’s friends don’t know?” The moment she asked, she realized how foolish the question had been.

      He raised his head and met her gaze. “Frankly, I don’t know any of her friends. Before yesterday, I hadn’t seen Caroline in months.”

      “And the rest of your family couldn’t help?”

      His smile held no humor. “My father thinks

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