Page 20 of The Worst Best Man

“Damn it, Aiden. Look. Maybe my body wants your body. But if I don’t want the rest of you, then it’s not happening.”

“I don’t do relationships. But what I can offer—”

“Christ, I’m not talking about relationships. I’m talking about liking you as a person.”

“You keep saying you don’t like me, but I think you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“My prerogative. Got it? Bottom line, you’re not getting in my pretty pink thong. I don’t like you enough for that. Now, I need a minute and some air. Do me a favor and check on Pru and the rest of those idiots.”

She turned, ruining her exit by tripping over an empty crate outside the shack’s back door. But she didn’t fall on her face. Picking her way toward the sidewalk, Frankie didn’t relax until she could no longer feel the burning weight of Aiden’s gaze on her.

“What is with that guy?” she muttered under her breath. She didn’t like him, yet she was more than happy to let him meander a trail up her thigh to her happy place. She felt like her blood had turned to electricity, zinging through her veins at impossible speeds. He was cold, judgmental, reserved. Hell, he’d assumed she was a stripper. That alone should banish him from her bed for life.

Frankie picked her way through the crowd on the sidewalk. Cab drivers catcalled fares, and drunken tourists stumbled into ZRs, the island’s minivan transportation. For a buck U.S., you could get pretty much anywhere from Bridgetown to St. Lawrence Gap. A group of local girls dressed to the nines wandered by giggling as a group of boys followed a half step behind.

She spotted Chip ahead, looking around as if he was lost. He was standing on the sidewalk ahead of the cab line weaving like a man who’d ingested nothing but rum for an entire weekend.

She raised her hand to hail him. But before she could call out to him, a dirty white van roared up to the sidewalk, the rear door sliding open before it stopped. Chip leaned in, and that’s when Frankie saw the hands reach out. They dragged him into the van.

“Hey! Chip!” She started running. The driver, a red cap pulled low, looked her way. “Stop! That’s my friend!” Frankie yelled.

“Hey, Mami,” the driver said, tossing her a wave as he floored the accelerator. Tires squealing, the door slammed shut with Chip inside, and the van sped away from the curb.

The groom had just been kidnapped.

Chapter Nine

Aiden was under a full head of steam as he stormed his way through the fish festival crowd. When he found Frankie, he was going to explain that she was being an idiot. Which would probably go over well. Aiden liked having the edge, the advantage in negotiations. And Frankie’s weakness was when she let her emotions off the leash. Mad, turned on, that’s when she was vulnerable to suggestion.

It was callous, calculating. But he was a Kilbourn. It’s what they did.

He spotted her on the sidewalk, and his calculations disappeared as if they’d never been when he saw the fear on her face. She was hailing a cab.

“Franchesca!” he pushed his way to her just as a rusty ZR van clunked to a stop in front of her. There were a half dozen people already on it.

“Aiden!” She grabbed his arm. “Get in!”

Instinctively, he followed her onto the torn-up vinyl of a bench seat.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Where you going?” the driver demanded.

“Follow that car,” Frankie announced, pointing at taillights ahead.

The ZR lurched to a start, and Aiden braced his hand on the seat in front of him. “What in the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“They took Chip.” Her breath was coming in heaves as she peered over the front seat…

“What? Who took Chip?”

“I don’t know. One second he was standing on the sidewalk, and the next, someone was dragging him into a minivan.”

Aiden yanked his phone out. And dialed Chip’s number. There was no answer.

A bell rang and the ZR jerked to a stop in front of a sports bar.

“Why are we stopping?” Frankie asked. “They’re getting away!”