Free WOULD-BE CHRISTMAS WEDDING by Debra Webb Page B

The dance carried them apart for a moment, then back again. “I’ll go to the restroom. If they follow, we can subdue them there and leave through the back door.”
    He didn’t look happy about it. Apparently, no one wanted to credit her with any skills beyond marriage, motherhood and pushing paper. It wasn’t her first brush with disbelief, but there would be plenty of time to deal with her bruised pride later.
    Besides, she had a lifetime of hearing William, Thomas and more recently, Casey, talk about how to execute a proper egress in the most unusual of circumstances.
    The music soared as the song ended and Emmett put a flourish on the last move, dipping her back over his arm and bringing her back up so fast in the next beat that her head spun. Then his mouth captured hers.
    His fingers speared into her hair, his palm hot, firm and somehow gentle where he cradled her head. She gripped his shoulders for balance, digging into his firm muscles when he shifted, taking the kiss deeper. His thigh wedged between hers, his other hand splayed across her back.
    Her breath stalled in her lungs, but she didn’t care. She’d told him to make a scene and he was doing a fine job of it. His tongue stroked boldly against hers, making dark, silky promises her body wanted him to keep.
    The cheers and catcalls brought her back to reality with a shock. He released her so suddenly she swayed. She touched her lips, staring at him a long moment before remembering she was supposed to make a break for the restrooms.
    He drew her body close to his and she had the wild hope he would kiss her again.
    “Go,” he whispered against her cheek as the next song started.
    Cecelia went. Like the hounds of hell were on her heels. Within seconds she heard heavy footfalls behind her as she rounded the corner. On a prayer the restroom might be empty, she pushed through the door into the ladies’ room and spun a quick circle in search of anything she could use as a weapon. She should have gone back into that alley for her Taser. She’d dropped it after putting that creep down. She’d never had to use it before.
    If she couldn’t Taser a guy without being shaken, how was she ever going to fire a weapon?
    “Focus, Cecelia,” she muttered. She needed a weapon. Nothing presented itself, and she knew her best bet was to barricade herself in one of the stalls and wait for Emmett.
    She scrambled into a stall, set the latch and climbed onto the closed toilet seat. As the two men barreled in, Cecelia peered through the crack in the stall door and nearly groaned when a young woman stepped out of the stall closest to the door. Heather.
    “Uh, wrong door, guys.”
    “Where is Mrs. Manning?”
    These two knew her name? Any lingering notion she’d harbored that the attack after dinner had been a random mugging or a case of mistaking her for another woman fled. Not that she’d really believed it, even at the time.
    “Not in here. You guys are at the wrong party,” Heather added, trying to get around the men to the sink. “Get out.”
    One of the men caught Heather’s arm hard enough to make her cry out.
    “Show yourself, Manning.”
    Dear Lord. Cecelia couldn’t let them hurt the younger woman. “Let her go,” she said, stepping out of the last stall.
    “Come with us. Now,” the other man ordered.
    “As soon as you let her go,” Cecelia repeated with far more calm than she felt.
    The man holding Heather pulled a gun and pressed it to Heather’s side. The girl paled. “We all go together.”
    “Not acceptable.” Cecelia inched closer to the next stall, judging the reach of the second man. Come on, Emmett. None of the self-defense moves she knew were applicable from this distance. She had to find a way to get Heather away from that gun.
    “Last warning,” Cecelia promised. “Let. Her. Go.” She took a step closer with each word and on the last she let the second man catch her arm. She resisted and then suddenly gave in when he pulled harder.