I wasn’t too worried about making this run with only Jenks as backup. I had the law on my side, and in a room full of witnesses, a publicity-conscious Trent was going to come quietly. After all, he was up for reelection soon, which was probably why he was getting married, the flop. If he was going to kill me, it would be a private affair. At least that’s what I was telling myself.

Brakes huffing, we turned a sharp corner. The old woman across from me was eyeing my present, and when her gaze dropped to my boots, I shifted my knees so my dress would cover them. Jenks snickered, and I frowned.

We were almost there, and I shuffled through my bag for my cuffs, enduring the looks as I hiked up the dress and clipped them onto the thigh holster, carefully adjusting the slip and dress back over it. They’d jingle when I walked, but that was okay. I glanced at the cute guy three seats down, and he nodded as if telling me they were hidden.

I turned my phone to vibrate and went to tuck it in a pocket, frowning when I realized the dress didn’t have one. Sighing, I tucked it in my meager cleavage, getting a thumbs-up from Mr. Three Seats Down. The plastic was cold, and I started when it slipped a little too far. I couldn’t wait for Glenn to call me with the news he had the warrant in his hand. I’d talked to him a few hours ago, and he’d made me promise to do nothing until he did. Till then I’d be the perfect bridesmaid in black lace.

A smile curved up the edges of my lips. Yeah. This was going to be fun.

Jenks dropped to the back of the seat ahead of me. “Better stand up,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

My focus sharpened. The blocky structure of the cathedral loomed ahead, the floodlights bathing it in a beautiful glow in the fog and almost-full moonlight. Tension spiked. Hiking my bag onto my shoulder, I held my present close and stood.

The driver’s attention flicked to me, and he pulled off. The entire bus went silent, and my skin crawled as I edged to the front, all eyes on me.

“Thank you,” I muttered as the driver opened the door, then jerked back when my dress caught on a screw poking out of the ceiling-to-floor bar.

“Ma’am,” the driver said as I laboriously unhooked it, “pardon my asking, but why are you taking the bus to a wedding?”

“Because I’m going to arrest the groom, and I didn’t want the I.S. stopping me en route,” I said flippantly, then flounced down the steps, Jenks’s dust putting gold sparkles in my hair.