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  DESTINATION WEDDING (Decorah Security, Book 9)

  A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novella

  By Rebecca York

  Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York

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  Table of Contents

  Afterword

  DECORAH SECURITY SERIES by Rebecca York

  OFF-WORLD SERIES by Rebecca York

  Praise for Rebecca York

  About the Author

  Contacts

  ALL BOOKS by Rebecca York

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  “This is our chance for freedom. Nick Cassidy’s not on duty today.”

  Camille Norland spun toward her younger sister, Eden, noting the hopeful look in her blue eyes. She was talking about one of the bodyguards their father had hired to keep the family safe. He’d been on the estate for six months—the worst six months of Camille’s twenty-five years.

  The guy was brutally handsome with a hard body that would send any woman’s blood pressure shooting up. His lips looked hard, but she suspected that they would soften when they came down on hers. I mean, if you were going to pick a man for a romantic fling, he was it. She couldn’t help being attracted to him. And she knew for sure it was mutual, because of the way his gaze would flick quickly away when she caught him looking at her.

  But working for Samuel Norland apparently meant that he wouldn’t get involved with Camille. It also meant he was an unbending son of a bitch. A stickler for procedure. If he thought it wasn’t safe to do something, you didn’t get to do it. You didn’t get to go swimming in the ocean. Or go into town for shopping or to a restaurant for lunch. You stayed on the Norland estate where you were bored out of your skull.

  “Dad’s birthday is coming up next month,” Eden said, curling a strand of blond hair around her finger the way she did when she was trying to get her way. “I want to buy him something he’ll really like.”

  Camille countered with a practical suggestion. “We can shop the Internet.”

  Eden gave her a pained look. “If you want to be a good little duby and stay home looking at a computer screen, be my guest. But I’m going to a real mall with real merchandise. Bobby will take me.”

  Camille sighed. Maybe the best thing to do was go along to keep her little sister from doing anything too outrageous.

  Or really, what she should do was call Nick Cassidy.

  Bobby Cunningham, blond, surfer cute, and eager to please, was new on the job, and Nick would tell him to keep them home. But then Eden would call Camille a squealer and give her the ice-cold treatment for weeks, which would make life even more unbearable.

  Eden had already grabbed her purse. “We’ll be back before anybody knows.” For good measure, she added, “What’s the point of having gonzo bucks if you can’t have any fun?”

  Camille nodded, thinking the lack of fun part was more true for her little sister than it was for herself. Eden had been born with a heart defect that had been repaired. But she’d never been in robust health, and Dad kept her protected like a piece of fine china wrapped in layers of tissue.

  Plus, when Camille had been little, things had been more normal. She’d gone to some good private schools, then spent four glorious years away from home at Florida State, living the life of a regular college student. Well almost regular, until Mom had died, kicking dad into over protective mode.

  Eden interrupted her thoughts. “I want to stop at that new jewelry store and look at gold chains. One of those thick ones would look great on Dad.”

  “And he’d probably like one of the books on the New York Times nonfiction list,” Camille added, thinking he’d prefer reading material to jewelry, but there was no harm in getting both.

  Still she felt a twinge of guilt as they climbed into the back of the Lincoln Town Car and headed for the iron gates that closed off the Norland estate from the rest of Longboat Key. Turning right, they headed for the mall.

  “Relax,” Eden said as she reached into the refrigerator at the side of the passenger compartment and pulled out a Coke.

  Camille crossed her long legs and leaned back in the plush leather seat, taking in her sister’s impish face, hoping they could keep the trip short.

  Looking toward the front of the car, she saw Bobby dividing his attention between the road ahead and the rearview mirror.

  “Anything wrong?”

  “No,” he answered. “Just being cautious.”

  She couldn’t help thinking about Nick again. If you were going to leave the estate, he’d be better protection than Bobby. Only, with Nick, they wouldn’t be here at all.

  The mall parking lot was crowded, and Bobby wouldn’t drop them off at the door. Instead he drove up and down the rows and finally found a space half a block from the entrance.

  A few seconds after they got out, a van pulled up in the lane behind them. Then another one materialized in front, blocking them in.

  Bobby drew his gun and spun around, as four tough-looking guys converged on them. One slammed him to the ground.

  Another shoved Eden aside. And a third reached for Camille. Before she had time to scream, something cold and wet came down over her face, and her vision instantly went wonky. As she slipped to the blacktop, two of the men grabbed her and dragged her away.

  oOo

  Nick Cassidy got the emergency call when he was already on his way back to the Norland estate. He’d had the day off, and he’d thought he’d relax at a shooting range.

  After an hour of practice with his Sig, where he’d topped his previous score, he’d gone to lunch at a little deli overlooking one of Florida’s million lakes. As he ate a pastrami sandwich on the shaded patio, he thought about asking Frank Decorah for a change of assignment.

  The Norland job would have been a good one—if he and Camille hadn’t set off sexual sparks when they were together, an unfortunate situation when you had to keep your emotions under control. And then there was the other daughter—Eden. She and Camille looked a lot alike, but the only thing he felt for her was annoyance that she was constantly bending rules and testing limits.

  When his phone rang, he pressed the talk button on the steering wheel.

  “Thank Christ I got you.”

  “What?” Nick demanded, instantly on the alert.

  “Camille is missing.”

  “From the estate?”

  Nick could hear Bobby gulp. “No. Eden asked me to take them shopping—to the mall.”

  “You’re still there?”

  “Yeah, with Eden.”

  Nick wanted to order them home, but he needed Bobby to show him where the attack had happened.

  “If you haven’t gotten her into the freaking car and locked the doors, do it,” Nick bit out as he pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall and made a U- turn. He didn’t waste the energy telling Bobby what a stupid shit he’d been. He simply sped toward the shopping center, asking for details as he drove.

  “Do we call the cops?” Bobby asked.

  “According to our instructions, that’s up to Norland,” Nick answered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After checking the location where the attack had occurred, Nick sent Bobby home with Eden, swearing that this was the last job he would ever take with someone who wasn’t a Decorah agent.

  He ached to charge into mall security and demand to see the surveillance tapes, but as he’d predicted, Samuel Norland had nixed going public on the abduction. And he knew that mall personnel wouldn’t see the tapes for days if at all.

  Back at the estate, while they waited for the billionaire to make it back from Miami—using a private chopper service—Nick set up a videoconference hookup with Decorah Security. He knew that Frank Decorah, the tou
gh ex-navy SEAL who owned the company was worried, but he radiated an aura of reassuring calm. He had called in Teddy Granada and Stinger Henderson from the computer division. Teddy was six feet tall with the bulk of a grizzly and unkempt hair hanging around his shoulders. Stinger looked like a refugee from a biker gang complete with leather jacket, and tattoos, mostly of the horror movie variety.

  They had already breached the surveillance system at the shopping mall. Nick had watched the attack half a dozen times, and it always ended the same way. He saw the women, clad in shorts and knit tops, get out of the town car, saw the shock in Camille’s wide eyes as two vans boxed them in. And each time as a tough-looking man pressed a cloth over Camille’s delicate features and hoisted her into one of the vans, his gut twisted.

  They’d made the license plates—from a rental company, of course.

  “We’ve got the list of people Norland was worried about,” Frank said as he flipped the gold eagle coin that he always carried in his pocket. “See what you can dig up on them.”

  A noise in the doorway made Nick turn quickly. He expected to see Norland, but it was Eden, her blond hair mussed.

  “I’m sorry. This is my fault,” she said in a small voice. “What can I do to help?”

  He wanted to bar her from the room—to keep himself from railing at her. Instead he pointed to a chair in the corner. “Sit there. And be quiet unless you have something useful to contribute.”

  Twenty minutes later, Norland dashed in. The last time Nick had seen him, he’d been a commanding presence, every inch the mature business executive who lost no sleep over million-dollar decisions. Now his five-foot- nine frame was a mass of tension, his high forehead was covered with sweat, and his expression was fierce. As soon as he entered the room, he rounded on Nick.

  “What the hell is going on? I pay you and Decorah Security good money to watch over my daughters.”

  Before Nick could answer, Bobby stepped forward. “Nick was off today. And, uh, I took Camille and Eden shopping.”

  “Why?” Norland bellowed.

  “Eden wanted to get you a birthday present,” he said in a low voice, his gaze flicking to her, then away.

  “Jesus! My birthday! Are you letting her call the shots?”

  Nick cut off the back and forth before it could go any further. “That’s water over the dam. What we have to do is focus on getting Camille back.”

  The distraught father shrugged off his sports jacket and sank into a chair. “Sorry. You’re right.”

  “Do you want to bring in the police?” Nick asked again, now that Norland had time to consider his options.

  “No! That could get her killed. You’ve heard how kidnap victims end up dead when the cops screw up.”

  Frank Decorah spoke from the big wall screen. “Have you been considering who would have taken her—and why?”

  “Ransom,” Norland bit out. “Or revenge,” he added in a low voice. “I’ve made a lot of people angry over the years,” Norland admitted.

  That probably translated to “screwed a lot of business rivals,” but Nick kept the observation to himself.

  “Who would be capable of pulling this off?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The big screen split, and Teddy Granada joined Frank Decorah.

  “You’ve done some oil deals with a guy named Victor Zanov, right?”

  “What about him?” Norland snapped.

  “One of his Cessnas landed this morning at a small airport a few miles from here, then took off again two hours ago.”

  The blood drained from Norland’s face. “Oh Christ.”

  Fear surged through Nick as he asked, “Did he threaten Camille?”

  When Norland didn’t answer, Nick grabbed the man’s shoulders. “Did he say he’d hurt her?”

  The older man’s gaze focused on him. “Sorry, I’m having trouble coming to grips with this. No, it was nothing like that. Actually, he asked to marry her.”

  “Asked you?”

  “Yes, and I discussed it with Camille. She was repulsed by the idea of marrying a man twenty-five years her senior. But it wasn’t just the age difference. She wasn’t attracted to Zanov, and she didn’t like his high-handed tactics. Now you’re saying that he has her?”

  “It’s our best lead so far,” Frank Decorah answered from the wall monitor.

  “Then we can get her back.”

  Frank gave him a sympathetic look. “I know you want to move quickly, but we have to verify that he took her. And if it’s him, we have to figure out where he’s holding her.”

  As they watched the screen, another picture flashed into view. It was of a good looking man with jet black hair tamed in an expensive cut.

  The dark hair made him look like he was in his mid-forties, but the lines in his face told Nick that he was probably a bit older. Probably the hair was dyed. He stared at the camera with ice blue eyes, and his whole demeanor exuded an air of arrogance that set Nick’s teeth on edge. He was obviously a man who was used to giving orders—and getting what he wanted.

  Did that include Camille Norland?

  Samuel looked up and saw his other daughter huddled in the armchair in the corner, looking miserable.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he snapped. “You should be in bed, resting.”

  “Resting? I can’t rest. This is my fault, and I have to know that Camille’s going to be safe.”

  Nick needed to know that, too. Because now that Camille was gone, a hole had opened up in his heart.

  oOo

  Camille drifted in a comforting dream. She clung to it because she instinctively knew that if she allowed herself to wake, she wouldn’t be able to cope with her current reality.

  Sinking deeper into sleep, she snuggled more tightly into a man’s powerful arms and knew that it was Nick Cassidy holding her. She didn’t open her eyes and look at him, but she caught the familiar citrus scent of his aftershave and felt the well-toned muscles of his hard body.

  “Finally,” she whispered. “You finally came to me. What changed your mind?”

  “I had to,” he answered in a thick voice.

  She snuggled closer, pleased by the desperation she heard.

  “We both know this is wrong,” he said. “I work for your father. I can’t be intimate with his daughter.”

  The rough way he said the word “intimate” sent a hot chill skittering over her skin.

  “If you weren’t working for my father, we never would have met—and been attracted to each other.”

  He made a sound of acknowledgment deep in his chest, a sound she took for surrender.

  “It’s okay. You know it’s what we both want.”

  She cupped her hands around the back of his head, bringing his lips to hers, wordlessly telling him that they belonged together. The brush of her mouth against his was like the completion of an electric circuit, the power flowing from him to her as he took command, his mouth ravaging hers in an act of pure passion. She opened for him, welcoming the invasion of his tongue, the touch of his hands as they stroked and caressed her. Finally, after all these months of circling each other like dancers in a stylized ritual, he was going to make love with her.

  She rolled to her back, giving him access to her body, waiting for one of his hands to claim her breasts and the other to slide downward into the hot core of her. For a charged moment, he hovered over her.

  Then to her utter disappointment, he pulled away. When she reached for him, she grabbed only cool air, and she knew he had never really been there at all.

  She wanted to sob out his name, but she understood that calling to him in this place would be dangerous.

  This place? Her eyes blinked open. Her head pounded, and her vision slowly came into focus. What had happened to her? And where was she? The last thing she remembered was going shopping with Eden. Then . . .

  She made a small sound as her most recent memories rushed back to her. They’d just gotten out of the car when two vans had boxed them in. Tough-l
ooking men had grabbed her, and that was the last thing she remembered before waking up here.

  She pushed herself up and looked around a luxurious bedroom. It reminded her a little of her room at home with French Provincial furniture and delicate pale blue and yellow fabrics. Like someone knew her taste and had copied it. But this wasn’t home. The bed was in the wrong position—across from the window. And the antique dresser was pretty but not something she’d seen before.

  She was still thinking about that when she turned her head in the other direction and saw something she really couldn’t figure out. Hanging from a high stand was a stunningly beautiful wedding dress with white Duchesse lace and seed pearls layered over the long skirt. It was obviously from a designer studio and looked like it had cost the earth.

  What was it doing here? And more to the point—what was she doing here?

  Frantic scenarios raced through her foggy mind. Had that assault at the shopping mall given her amnesia? What if she was supposed to get married and . . . She couldn’t finish the thought because it had no logical conclusion. She remembered the last guy she’d dated. The son of one of her father’s golf buddies. A totally suitable match as far as the dads were concerned. But there hadn’t been any spark between her and Rick, and they’d mutually agreed that it wasn’t going to work out.

  As she pushed herself up to get a better view of the room, the covers fell away and she was caught in another moment of confusion. Earlier she’d dressed in a powder blue tee shirt and navy shorts. They had disappeared, and now she was wearing a lacy nightgown.

  She looked down at her front, seeing her nipples through the almost transparent bodice. In the next second, she heard the doorknob turn and yanked the covers up to her neck.

  A tall man stepped into the room, and she blinked, trying to process who he was. Then his face registered, and she made a choking sound.

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was Victor Zanov, the arrogant Russian guy Dad had asked to the estate once before he’d invited himself back a couple of times. He was dressed in white slacks and a beige and yellow striped sports shirt much like the clothes he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him. When he’d come to their house, Dad had asked her to be nice to him. Which was difficult because his touch made her skin crawl, and she knew from the way his icy blue eyes warmed in her presence that he had the hots for her. He’d asked Dad for her hand in marriage, and when they’d discussed it, she’d said, “no way.”