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Basia, Gray, and Grandma Adalee were huddled in the corner trying to remove the mud from the dress and figure out how to arrange the veil to hide the rips in the dress without exposing the previous bullet holes. The way they were heatedly whispering, I assumed it wasn’t an easy task.

After a minute, Grandma Adalee came over to talk to me. “Lexi, honey, what are you going to wear for shoes?”

“My tennis shoes. I’ll be more comfortable in them anyway.” I glanced at Mom, waiting for her to protest, but she pretended not to hear. Guess she was just happy we were moving forward with the wedding.

“Good. We’re thinking of temporarily taping up the hem of the dress and hiding the grime and dirt on the train that way. That will work if you aren’t wearing heels. Would that be okay?”

“However you can make it work, Grandma, I’m in. Thank you.” She kissed me on the cheek and rejoined the dress huddle.

Things had been crazy since what seemed like the rest of the federal government had arrived. They’d taken Sokholov into custody and carefully retrieved the unopened canisters. Slash had passed out, awoken, refused to go to the hospital, and finally agreed to be checked out by an EMT. He’d been diagnosed with a mild concussion but deemed fit to continue with the wedding, so long as it wasn’t strenuous, if that was what he desired. He desired it, and so did I.

We were absolutely, positively, never,evergetting married again.

As we were chauffeured back to the church in one of the SUVs, the agent in the passenger seat told us the Secret Service helicopter had captured the entire chase and fight scene on video.

“I can’t say for sure, but I think I may use it as a training video,” he said. “Pretty impressive what you two pulled off. Don’t you want to come work for us?”

“No, thanks,” I said. “We’re just a couple of computer geeks.”

“Sure you are.” He and the driver laughed, but his comment about the video gave me an idea. “Hey, you guys know Agent Lucy Glass, right? She’s the one who was protecting the first lady when she got shot.”

The mention of Agent Glass sobered them immediately. “Yeah, we know Agent Glass. Last I heard, she was hoping to get out of the ICU soon.”

“That’s great news. Can you do me a favor? Make sure Agent Glass gets to see the video of the takedown? You can tell her we got the dirtbag who set up the operation that put her in the hospital.”

“It would be my honor to see to that personally.”

Something else was still bothering me, though. “What about Plotnikov?” I asked Slash. “Does he get away with this?”

Slash shook his head. “He does not. Don’t worry. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the details, so I reached across the seat to take Slash’s hand. He had a large blanket around his shoulders because he’d gotten wet. His tuxedo was soaked, his bow tie was missing, and the dress shirt had turned from white to gray. His face was badly bruised. Still, I thought he’d never looked more handsome.

“You know, that was good shooting back there,” he said, squeezing my hand. “But in the future, I’d recommend a torso shot, especially in life-or-death situations. It’s a much bigger target than the arm.”

I looked at him in surprise. “What makes you think I wasn’t taking a torso shot?”

He blinked and then started to laugh. I joined him before resting my head on his shoulder.

When we reached the pull-off to the church, there were more paparazzi, news crews, and spectators gathered than I’d ever seen in my life, everyone trying to get a scoop or photo. Slash and I covered our faces and scooted down in the seat as we were waved through the checkpoint, even though the windows were heavily tinted. When we got to the church, we went our separate ways once again until we met at the altar.

No more photos. No more attacks. No more delays.

It was time to tie the knot.

The helicopter carrying the president, pope, and first lady returned to the church—upon their insistence—once the Secret Service had deemed the area safe again. When I was back in the dressing room, the first lady had stopped by briefly to thank me for stopping the attack.

“The president and I still can’t believe this happened to you on your wedding day,” she said.

“Me neither,” I said. “But at least it all worked out well.”

“It absolutely did,” she said. “We cannot thank you and Slash enough for your service. I hope all goes well with the ceremony, although I must admit I’ve been warned by the Secret Service not to go near you if you’re brandishing a flower stand or a Glock.”

I grimaced as she laughed and gave me a quick hug.

Basia redid my makeup and told me she’d worked on Slash’s battered face, too. Amanda stopped by to check our progress and inform us our bewildered guests were still being briefed with a sanitized version of what had happened. I was so glad she had agreed to stay on as our wedding planner. She handled our craziness and crises with the efficiency of a general in battle.

Finally, she said the priests and pope had everything ready in the chancel. The candles were lit, and the organist was awaiting our return.