The Worst Best Man(28)

“Why not?” he asked, rubbing a hand over the cheek she’d so efficiently slapped.

“I don’t make the same mistake twice, Kilbourn. And you’re a big, fat mistake. Now, come on. I think room 314 is that way.” Aiden watched in fascination as Frankie pulled a map of the resort out of her cleavage.

“Where did you get that?” Aiden snatched the map from her.

“At the desk.”

“We’re not going after Chip.”

“Excuse me? We know where he is, and all of the sudden, you want to call it a night?”

“What do you want to do? Knock on the door and demand that they give him back?”

“It’s a start! I’m not leaving my friend here.”

Aiden gripped her upper arm and started pulling her toward the cab desk. “We have the upper hand here. What we need is a plan. I have to go figure out who has him, and if I can do that, I’ll know why they took him.” The lie was easy. He already knew the who and the why, but he wasn’t about to add Frankie into the mix. He wasn’t sure who she’d murder first.

“I’m not leaving Chip here with some kidnapping asshole! Let’s call security or the cops!”

“We’re not calling anyone,” he said, tightening his grip on her arm.

“Why in the hell not? We know where he is!”

“We don’t know who took him or why. We know that he’s here and they’re feeding him. And that means he’s safe. For now.”

“For now?” She tried to wrestle her arm free. “Did you just track down his abductor because you were curious where they took him? And now, curiosity appeased, you want to go back to the resort for some margaritas and see how this plays out?”

Aiden rounded on her. “Look. Believe me when I say your loyalty is admirable. But we need to regroup. I need a plan. If we go in there half-cocked, it could be disastrous.”

When her gaze slid to his crotch, Aiden rolled his eyes. “Stop looking at my cock. We’re leaving.”





Chapter Fifteen


He walked her to her room as if she were a prisoner. They’d spent the entire ride in silence as Frankie stewed and Aiden plotted. She understood that there was a time and a place for planning and manipulation, but when a friend was in danger? That seemed like the ideal time to kick in a door and start making noise.

With barely controlled rage, Frankie swiped her keycard. She intended to storm into the room and slam the door in Aiden’s face, but he was faster. He caught her by the arm and forced her to look at him. “I appreciate all your help tonight. But I’ve got this handled now.”

“Excuse me, Lone Ranger?”

“Franchesca, I need you to trust me to fix this. I promise you, I’ll get Chip back before the wedding.”

She opened her mouth ready to verbally punch him in the face, but as usual, he was quicker. He brought his mouth down on hers for a fast, hard kiss. Just when she was deciding between dragging him into her room or kicking him in the balls, Aiden pulled back. “You were amazing tonight.”

He ran a finger down the tip of her nose and walked off.

“What in the fuck was that?” Frankie asked the empty room as she shut the door and added the chain just in case Mr. Kilbourn decided to try his luck again.

She looked down at her dress and groaned. There was a tear in the waist and one in the skirt. Those damn berries had smeared their bloody red massacre over the right breast and hip. She looked like a murdered starlet in Monique Lhuillier.

Pru was going to kill her.

Frantically, she dialed the front desk and begged for a super emergency cleaning. The figure they named made her wince. It meant at least another month of catering gigs. But at this point, she had no choice. It was either pay the exorbitant fee and hope for the best, or walk down the aisle and get stabbed by the bride.

If there was a wedding. If Aiden didn’t come through, there would be no groom for Pru to marry, she thought bitterly as she changed into sleep shorts and a tank.

Frankie handed over the dress to the bell hop that knocked and then texted Pru.



Frankie: You up?



Pru’s response was practically instantaneous.



Pru: OMG, get over here!



Frankie padded down the hall to Pru and Chip’s room. Before she could raise her knuckles to knock, Pru opened the door and dragged her inside. Frankie blinked. Her best friend was wearing a silk pajama set… and her veil.

Clearly the rum and beer hadn’t worn off yet.

“I know. I know. I look like a crazy person,” Pru announced leading the way back into a marble on marble on marble bathroom the size of a football stadium. “But I started thinking. We’re in paradise. It’s hot. Do I really want to wear my hair down tomorrow? Have a seat,” she said, pointing toward the ledge of the soaker tub.

“And do you?” Frankie asked, feeling like the worst human being in the world. Her best friend’s fiancé had been kidnapped in front of her face and not only did she know where to find him, she had walked away without trying to rescue him. She was scum. The chewing gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. The kind of person who faked diseases just to set up phony crowd-funding campaigns. She, Franchesca Marie Baranski, was a bad, bad person.

She sat on the lip of the tub.