Bag on one shoulder and focus under an arm, I guided Trent down the stairs, holding his elbow so he wouldn’t trip and sue me for unnecessary roughness. Da-a-a, da-a-a, da, dum. I got the bastard now, echoed in my thoughts in a mockery of the wedding march. Someone’s phone snapped a picture, and I grinned, imagining tonight’s front page. I could hear sirens in the background, and I hoped they were the FIB, come to hustle me off the street, and not the I.S. to arrest me. I didn’t actually have the warrant, but my contact did.

Forgotten by the altar, Ellasbeth made a frustrated sound of anger. “Trent!” she cried, and I almost felt sorry for the woman. “This is outrageous. How can you let her do this? I thought you owned this city!”

Trent halfway turned, and I steadied him on the steps with a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t own Ms. Morgan, dear. I need a few hours to sort this out. I’ll join you at the reception.”

God, I hoped not.

As we passed Piscary, I slowed. “Could you meet me at the FIB?” I said, pulse pounding and breathless. “I have something for you.”

The undead vampire kissed the underside of Ivy’s wrist, making her shudder. “You are utterly inhuman, Rachel. Almost as cold as you are audaciously contemptible. It’s a side to you that is…delightfully unexpected. I’m most interested in what you have to say.”

Not knowing what to make of that, I nodded and pushed Trent back into motion. He was indignant, apparently figuring out that I was going to give the vampire the focus. Hell, Piscary “insured” four-fifths of the city, and David’s company picked up the rest. It wasn’t hard to figure out I wanted to be added to the list. Seeing Trent’s understanding, I smiled. Bastard.

“Trent!” Ellasbeth shrieked. “You walk out of this church and I’m gone. I’m on the plane and I’m home! I agreed to marry you, not this…this circus you call a life.”

“I don’t have much choice—dear,” he said over his shoulder. “Will you curb your hysterics and tend to our guests? This is a minor glitch.”

“Minor glitch!” I was walking sideways, nearly missing it when she threw her bouquet at the holy guy, screaming. “Quen! Do something! That’s what you’re paid for!”

My eyebrows rose. I was almost to the door, and no one had tried to stop me. Shock was a wonderful tool when used correctly.

Quen looked up from his phone. “I am, Ms. Withon. I’ve already established that Morgan is acting within the law, and I’m calling Trenton’s trial lawyer.”