16. Madeline

Adam circled the headless mannequin, arms crossed, brow arched, looking like he could find something wrong with Bella Cassano's exquisite wedding gown.

"What?" Madeline asked, stepping back to see the voluminous tulle over satin with no less than one hundred and sixteen hand-sewn crystal sequins meant to make Bella glimmer like a sparkler on her big night. "More buttons? Less lace? Lower neckline? Extra bling?" She leaned into him, sliding an arm around his waist. "Perhaps you want to wire the bodice, Mr. Former FBI Agent?"

He threw her an amused look. "I like the way you think, Mrs. Wannabe FBI Agent."

She chuckled into his embrace, still not used to the solid feel of him in her arms or the taste of his frequent kisses. They'd been married almost three weeks, and she was still as joyful as she had been on her wedding day and more in love than ever.

Based on the way he looked at her, Adam felt exactly the same way.

"It's not that I want to be an agent," she said. "I simply wish our ‘target' would give us more information during these fittings, which are going to end soon. But—serious question for this dressmaker—do you like it?"

He examined the dress one more time with a critical eye. "I liked yours better. This thing looks like it weighs more than Bella."

She laughed. "That's why it's the ceremony and first-dance dress. Before she topples over, she changes into this."

She turned him to the other mannequin, wearing a solid satin column that would hug every curve and move like liquid mercury on the dance floor.

"Ah, yes. They're both pretty, Maddie. What time will they be here?"

She checked the clock. "Nine minutes. And I hope I do better at this fitting than all the others."

"At getting information? You can't push the process. It has to happen organically if it's going to happen at all. Which," he added with a narrowed eye, "it might not. You have to be prepared for that."

"She won't say anything," Madeline grumbled, letting go of Adam to fix a row of tulle that was off by a zillionth of an inch. "She won't talk about her business or her father's. She doesn't mention any of the people who work for them, or loan sharking, drug dealing, money laundering, or the elusive Serifino. Was this whole thing a waste of time?"

"No." He reeled her closer. "It was all part of my evil plan to get you to marry me in a big, fat hurry."

The frustration dissolved, replaced by a warm rush of affection. "I'd have probably said yes even if we weren't after the Cassano crime family."

"Probably?" he teased, bending down for a kiss.

"Maybe."

He laughed against her lips and she…melted. Like a teenager. Well, maybe not that bad, but not like a fifty-year-old woman who had an appointment in nine—no, eight—minutes. And not any appointment. This one was with criminals who simply weren't talking enough.

"Is it always like this?" she asked as they parted.

"Kissing you?" he asked. "It's always amazing. Why?"

"I meant undercover work. Is it always…frustrating?"

"Until it isn't," he said. "The process ebbs and flows. There are weeks when there's nothing, then you strike undercover gold." He punctuated that with another quick kiss. "What you don't do, ever, is let them know you're digging."

"I know," she assured him, familiar with his warnings. "I promise I won't give anything away, no matter how discouraged I get."

"Madeline!" Cathie called. "Ginny Cassano is here. She's waiting for Bella, who's on her way."

"Be right down," she called, then made a face and whispered, "Early, as always."

"Making them your ideal client."

"Not when I'm kissing my husband." Yes, she may have dragged the word a little bit more than necessary. It felt as good on her lips as that kiss, and she would be lying if she said she didn't love being married.

Every moment with Adam was perfection—from waking up in his arms to the last toothpaste-flavored kiss at night. But now, duty called.

"Come on. Go downstairs and you can sneak out the back door while Ginny waits in the salon." Her brows rose as she added, "I could wait down there, too, and maybe Bella will come in and I'll overhear some good convo, as the kids say."

"Is that what you'd normally do?" he asked. "Wouldn't you bring her up here?"

She shrugged. "Yes, but maybe I'll give them time alone to just sit and talk and wait for me."

"Maddie. No one waits for the most prompt person in town."

"But they're early. Maybe they won't know I'm listening—"

He put a finger on her lips. "Nothing out of the ordinary, ever. I mean it, Maddie."

She nodded on a sigh and added a quick cross over her heart to underscore the promise. "Okay, I understand. Oh! I have an idea!" She pulled out her phone, touched the voice memo app she used so often, and placed it face down on the cutting table. "I'll record the whole thing and maybe go downstairs for something and—"

His eyes flashed in horror.

"What?" she asked. "Oh, is that illegal?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point. It's dangerous. What if they discovered they were being recorded?"

"If I cover it?" She flipped a remnant of satin over the phone.

"Not even—"

They heard women's voices floating up from the salon. "Bella's here. Go!" She pushed him toward the stairs. He went, but pointed to the hidden phone with a warning in his eyes.

"Turn it off, Maddie."

"I will, I will—"

"Oh, you must be Madeline's new husband."

They both spun around to see Ginny Cassano walking into the studio, a look of curiosity in her eyes.

"We haven't heard nearly enough about you," Ginny said, extending her hand. "Madeline is so modest about being a newlywed. I'm Ginny Cassano, and you're…"

"Adam Logan," he replied, shaking her hand. "And, yes, I have the honor of being married to the most talented dressmaker in the country."

"You don't have to tell me," she said. "This woman's worked magic, and that's not easy with customers like us."

Adam gave a noncommittal smile and took a step to the door. "And I'll let you get to the magic-making." He reached down and gave Madeline a quick hug but added a very pointed squeeze that she could easily interpret.

Get the phone.

She nodded a silent promise that she would. But as he walked out, Ginny shrieked and grabbed Madeline's hand, dragging her another ten feet away from the phone.

"These look amazing!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands as she pivoted from one gown to the other. "Utter perfection!

"I think they came out very well," Madeline said with even more than her usual understatement. Because…the phone.

Ginny's whole face fell almost as quickly as it had lit up. "But I have a bad feeling about that phone call that my daughter just took."

Madeline frowned, not following, her brain stuttering when she said the word "phone." "The phone call…"

"From her father. He called her as we were walking in here and she shooed me away, which usually means they're talking business and I'm not allowed to hear."

You and me both, she thought glumly, wishing Bella would take one of those calls when Madeline was within earshot.

"What about the call would give you a bad feeling?" she asked, hoping that wasn't one of those questions Adam was always warning her not to ask.

Ginny huffed out a breath and dropped onto a viewing sofa, shaking her head, then pointing to the two dresses. "Are they ready?"

"Almost," Madeline said, mentally mapping out a few casual steps to go pick up her phone on the cutting table. Would that seem—

"Do not give me grief, Mother!" Bella called as she pounded up the steps, full speed. "This one is an order from the top and if you have a problem with that, he's your husband."

Ginny slammed her hand on the sofa with a temper that turned her cheeks red. "I hate that man! I seriously, passionately, completely hate that man."

Before Madeline could move, Bella cruised in—coffee, phone, overpriced bag, and all.

"You don't hate him," she said. "You hate change. And this one's not going to make you happy. The new wedding date is April twelfth."

"Wha…What?"Both Madeline and Ginny sputtered the question in unplanned but perfect unison.

"You heard me." She flung the purse, dropped the phone, and gulped the coffee. "April stinking twelfth."

Madeline choked in disbelief, but Ginny turned as white as the two dresses that Bella had yet to notice.

"Well, he can go…" Ginny fought with whatever string of profanity was threatening to bubble out of her.

"Mom."

"I will not—"

"Mom."

"There is no way we will—"

"Mother!" Bella barked the word. "We have a solution. Chill out."

"A solution to get a new caterer, venue, florist, and notify every guest? Are you out of your mind, Bella?"

"Settle down," she said. "We're having the ceremony on April twelfth, small and intimate. Then we'll have the party, as planned, June fifteenth, at the country club. It'll be a breeze, and fun, too."

For a few seconds, Ginny sat dead silent, trying to process this. "Is that what you want, Bella?"

She snorted. "Clearly, what I want doesn't matter. But what Dad wants is a certain person as the officiant and that's the only day he's available. Dad said we can use the yacht and have a decent-sized party onboard the Captain's Table." She turned to the ballgown and grimaced. "I know it's a lot for a shipboard wedding, but no one is talking me out of wearing that dress."

"On a boat?" Ginny sputtered. "Bella, why are you agreeing to this?"

Bella whipped around and sliced her mother with an unholy glare. "Will you just shut your piehole and cooperate? Pick up your phone, call the wedding planner, tell her we need flowers and food for a small ceremony on board Dad's yacht—it's hardly a boat—and let me call the shots."

This time, the gasp was from Madeline. She may have witnessed some hair-curling mother-daughter exchanges in this room, but that one was the worst.

And Ginny looked like she agreed.

The woman stood slowly, suddenly rather menacing, considering she was five-three in heels. Her ebony eyes smoldered like fiery coal and her narrow chest rose and fell as if the volcano inside her had been poked, heated, and was ready to erupt.

Bella saw the fury coming.

"Go." She flicked her hand at Madeline. "I need to explain something to my mother. Something about what pays for all this that she simply refuses to acknowledge or believe. Something that she has to know, because my father protects her and would never tell her, but I will. And maybe when she understands what's at stake, she'll do her job and get out of my way so I can do mine."

For a moment, no one spoke.

And all Madeline could think was that this was it. Bella was going to spill something, and she had to know. This was the flow after the weeks-long ebb of nothing.

Yes, she had to leave the studio, but she could hear every word spoken above a whisper at the bottom of the stairs.

And there was the small matter of her phone, currently recording everything. She could leave it, but…Adam would kill her. And if she got caught? Nico might. For real.

It wasn't worth the risk.

She took one step toward the cutting table, but Bella cut her off. "Out." She pointed to the door. "Now."

Madeline swallowed. "I need to get—"

"Out!" She barked the syllable so hard, Madeline felt her hair move in the breeze of Bella's breath.

Her heart walloping her chest, she somehow managed not to look in the direction of her phone. It was covered, but if it rang…

"And close the door," Bella added as she gave Madeline's shoulder a jab. "Sound carries down those stairs and I need privacy."

Oh, boy.

With a quick nod, she walked out, closing the door—and eliminating the sound—behind her. She stood for one moment on the top step, realizing how much her body was trembling.

If her phone rang and they picked it up or if it even lit up under the fabric and they looked at it…Bella would know she'd been recorded.

Madeline's legs nearly buckled under her, but she made her way down the steps. Furious, afraid, and momentarily lost.

What had she gotten herself into? Why was she taking risks like this? Yes, she was angry that Nico Cassano was running a crime ring in her small town. Yes, she wanted to do the right thing and help get rid of him.

And, yes, being perfectly honest, she got an inexplicable high from the whole thing. She loved talking about it with Adam, experiencing the first real excitement in her life…ever.

But this was serious. If she got caught, God only knew what Nico might do to her. To her family and their businesses and…Adam.

No, she was done. Never again. No more spying. No more undercover work. No more—

The door at the top of the stairs—a door Madeline couldn't ever remember closing before this—swung open so hard and fast it was a wonder the knob didn't go through the wall.

"You can come up now, Madeline," Bella said, her voice a thousand times calmer.

Did that mean they'd never noticed her phone was recording…or they had, and she was going to get shot when she walked into her studio?

Bella didn't say anything else, but stood in the doorway staring down at her.

With each step, Madeline's pulse hammered harder and her gut clenched more. Why was Bella staring at her? Why didn't she make a comment or a joke or anything? Why was she taking deep breaths like she was furious and about to…kill someone?

One step from the top, Madeline stopped and looked directly into Bella's brown eyes, her throat too constricted to say a word.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Bella said through gritted teeth.

Madeline gave a nod and started to climb the last step, when Bella put her fingertips right on Madeline's breastbone. No pressure, but one push and Madeline would go backwards down seventeen treacherous stairs.

She stared at the other woman and waited for…death.

"I would appreciate it if you would not share a word of that with anyone."

"Of course," Madeline whispered, her voice taut with nerves.

"And that you would understand that our fuses are short because the wedding is stressful."

"No one understands that more than I do."

"And," Bella added, "you will move heaven and Earth to finish my dress before the new and improved wedding date of April twelfth because…"

"Because you won," she finished when Bella didn't.

Bella snorted. "I always win. I'm wearing it come hell or high water, which…" She leaned in and added a sassy look. "Won't matter, because we'll be on a boat. The dress is gorgeous, Madeline, and I would absolutely die if I had to give it up. Come on. I want it on me now."

With that, Bella stepped back into the studio, making room for Madeline, who tried to hide her sigh of relief when she walked in and saw that satin remnant still covering her phone.

"By the way, your phone just rang but I didn't see it anywhere."

She nearly collapsed. "I know where it is. Thank you."

Five minutes later, when Bella went into the dressing room, Madeline flipped the satin remnant and stared at her phone, which had stopped recording when Adam called. But it had been on, and Bella could have put it all together. And Madeline lost ten years of her life with stress.

Never again, never again, never again.

"And before you ask,no. I haven't listened to it." Madeline stared at the phone on the table that sat there long after Ginny and Bella left, and Adam came back to hear of her near miss.

His dark eyes grew more tortured with every sentence she spoke. "Of course you haven't, Maddie. That was traumatic."

"Not…exactly." She tried to laugh, because now, after the last two hours? It all seemed kind of silly. But not really.

She'd spent those hours "coming down" from the experience, her fingers no longer trembling as she pinned Bella's tulle hem and redistributed a dozen crystals and took the bodice apart to add a bow in the back that Bella now wanted.

But Madeline hadn't changed her mind. Once those dresses were finished and delivered, she'd done her last job as an undercover agent.

Sitting close to her on the same sofa where Ginny had spent the better part of the afternoon looking at her phone and being freakishly quiet, Adam couldn't seem to let go of Madeline's hands.

"Don't beat yourself up," he insisted. "Nothing happened. But if it upset you and scared you, it wasn't worth it. And if I had known that they booted you out and you never got to grab the phone? I'd have…"

"What? Marched in in the middle of their conversation to get my phone? That wouldn't have been weird or anything."

He sighed in concession. "I'd have called sooner. That automatically shuts off the voice memo. Anyway, I don't care, Maddie. I never want you to feel that way again."

"Don't worry, I'm done. Nothing could ever get me to listen to, record, lie to, or stand in front of a mafia princess with no protection and seventeen steep steps behind me again. My undercover days are over."

He shuddered and pulled her closer. "I'm sorry. This whole thing ends now."

"But…" She flicked her hand to the phone on the coffee table. "Feel free to see what we captured before your call came in."

With a grunt, he leaned forward and got the phone, handing it to her.

"You can do it," she said.

"There's no lock on it?"

She winced. "Nope. Another reason I'm glad they didn't find it. Just tap voice memos and hit Play."

He did, turning the phone as he leaned back, and they listened.

At first, they couldn't make out anything but Bella's voice, so low all they could hear was the angry inflection as she lectured her mother.

"So it was a waste of time," Madeline murmured.

Adam put his finger to his lips, listening intently.

"I don't know why the officiant matters so much! Get one who can do it in June!" Ginny's voice rang out loud and clear, and Bella's, "Will you just listen to me, Mom?" response was just as easy to hear.

There was silence for a moment, then Bella said, "How many times do I have to tell you that Raymond Nance has to do this wedding?"

Adam and Madeline shared a quick look at the mention of the judge presiding over the Tampa trial that the SAC had mentioned.

"Why? Why him?" Ginny demanded, asking the obvious question that both Madeline and Adam wanted to have answered.

What was so important about this judge?

Again, Bella was either silent or so quiet, the phone didn't pick up her answer. A good fifteen seconds passed before they heard her voice. It was low, but Madeline closed her eyes, blocking out everything else as she tried to make out Bella's words.

"But that's because…" The next sentence was unintelligible, then, "Serifino is not going to testify."

Serifino? Madeline sat up at the name.

"You know what's at stake," Bella said.

But Madeline didn't. She leaned closer, vaguely aware she held her breath and stared at the phone, praying Adam's call didn't end the recording yet. Come on, Bella. Spill.

"I don't know," Ginny said, sounding disgusted. "Your father doesn't tell me anything."

"For your own good, Mom."

"All I know about that trial is that he's worried about it, and it's in June, right after the wedding. Or it was."

"The trial's been moved up to May first," Bella said. "We have to get to Nance before then, and it has to be at the wedding."

"Get to him and…what? Why at the wedding?" Ginny sounded like she almost didn't want to know the answer to that question.

Bella's response was a whisper so quiet, they couldn't hear a thing.

"She's too well trained to say it out loud," Adam said. "Which means, whatever she said, it's a crime."

"Are you kidding me?" Ginny, it seemed, was not so well trained, shrieking the question in response to Bella's whisper.

"No, I'm not kidding," Bella said, softly but they could hear. "If that trial blows up, so does half your income, lady. The only way to protect Dad is to grease Ray Nance's greedy palm with fifty racks. And the only safe way to do that is in person, at the wedding, when Dad and I are alone with him."

Madeline blinked as she processed what Bella had said. They were bribing a judge?

"When?" Ginny asked.

"The only time we possibly can," Bella said. "After the ceremony, where it's completely quiet and there is no chance the room is bugged. We were going to use that little room where the priest gets dressed in the back of the church when we sign the marriage certificate. Now, we'll use the private master stateroom on the Captain's Table. Still safe. Still private. Still in time."

"And if it doesn't work?" Ginny asked. "What if the judge has scruples?"

Bella snorted. "Then all the evidence will be moved into the restaurant, and it will be torched before the trial. Say goodbye to your precious Cassano's on Amelia Island."

Madeline drew back, breath caught in her throat. They'd set fire to the restaurant? An Amelia Island landmark that backed into Wingate Properties? That could easily burn the hundred-year-old bank building that her grandfather built and housed the heart of the Wingate family business.

Bella moaned, no doubt in response to Ginny's reaction. "Come on, Virginia Maria Cassano. Don't play dumb. You know exactly what your husband—and daughter—do for a living. Sometimes you can't turn a blind eye—"

The recording ended, likely due to Adam's incoming call. For a moment, Madeline wasn't sure she could breathe. Adam didn't say a word, either.

"We have to stop them," she finally said, the truth of that hitting hard.

"No, the FBI has to stop them," he corrected.

"Well, you have the proof." She gestured to the phone. "Play that for your boss at the field office and—"

He gave her a surprised look. "We can't use this. It's not legally obtained evidence. In fact, you're the one who broke the law by recording them without consent or a court order showing probable cause."

With a soft choke of disbelief, she fell back on the sofa, anger shooting through her. "So because of a technicality, these people can get away with bribing a judge—and burning a block of Fernandina Beach if he refuses the bribe? You have got to be kidding me, Adam."

"Sadly, I'm not. I'll hand this over to Daryl and he'll do—"

"Nothing." She stood as another jolt of frustration hit. "Because what can he do?"

"We know this is happening," Adam said. "Even if we could get on the yacht to plant a bug, they'll sweep the whole thing before this goes down."

Madeline shook her head, not accepting this roadblock. "What if I persuade Bella that she needs me there? I know! Maybe if she has a wedding dress emergency! I could make it so the seam rips and I have to go into the stateroom where they are—"

"And then what, Maddie? Even if you could control the timing of that, which you can't, what are you going to do? Force yourself into the middle of a bribe? Catch Nico handing a judge fifty thousand dollars? You're not an FBI agent, you're a dressmaker. You can't put yourself in—"

"Yes! The dress!" She clapped and pointed to him. "Brilliant!"

His brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"You can bug the room, right?" she asked, walking toward the ballgown-covered mannequin. "I mean, that's legal?"

"It is if we could get the necessary surveillance permission with probable cause, but—"

"If you had that permission, could you plant a bug on…a person?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, we wire people all the time. Madeline Wingate Logan, you are not going in that room for some made-up reason to try and record an illegal transaction and get yourself dumped in the river with a bullet in your chest."

She felt the blood drain as she stood behind the dress, eyeing the bodice. "Of course not," she said softly. "But we could…wire the wedding dress."

"What?"

"Hear me out," she said quickly. "Would that be legal? Admissible in court even if Bella didn't know she was wired?"

He blinked at her, his eyes flashing. "Actually…yes."

"Come here, Adam." She waved him closer. "Look at this."

Lifting the new bow she'd temporarily attached, she opened the folds of the bodice, eyeing the section she'd just taken apart because Bella wanted one more row of boning to hold her even tighter. "Look at all this space for boning in the bodice. I don't know how big these wires are but…"

"Now, they are very small," he said, squinting into the material and stitching.

"Small enough that I could slide one right in here?" She flicked the fabric over the boning with her finger.

"The wire would have to be near her face. But a receiver? Yes, it could…" He swore under his breath.

"What?" she asked. "Does that mean you think it's another brilliant Madeline idea and you're sorry you didn't think of it yourself?"

He stepped back, regarding her with a mix of amusement and amazement. A look that gave her full-body chills, because she loved nothing more than to amuse and amaze this man.

His eyes shuttered in surrender. "Let's schedule a meeting with the FBI."

"Yes!" She practically danced. "We could do this, Adam! We could wire a wedding dress!"

He gave her a dubious look, pulling her so close that she had to tilt her head up to look at him. "I thought you said never again."

"Yeah, well." She gave a light laugh, suddenly feeling adventurous and smart and smug and a lot like a girl she once knew who worked in the New York fashion district and had the world at her fingertips. "I said that about you, too. And look how married that got me."

He just laughed and kissed her long and hard. Yep. He liked the idea.