As soon as I get Skittles away, we’re going to have a talk.
Chapter Eleven
Pascal
I have to be seeing things. Throwing up all night long has probably messed up my vision. Or maybe this is just a fever dream.
I squint at the ceremony. Some tall guy is dashing off with Curie over his shoulder, her veil billowing out behind in the Maui breeze. Thankfully she’s sensible enough to not smack him too hard with her bouquet, because she’ll need it for later.
I slap my cheeks lightly and blink a few times. But nope. Not seeing things.
If he weren’t ruining the wedding, I’d be admiring the stamina and strength required to do what the man is doing. He’s moving faster than even Joe, who is in hot pursuit.
It’s hard to see the bastard with the sun behind him, although something about him seems familiar. Probably a member of the Curie Admiration Association. I can’t remember the last time she didn’t have a stalker or two.
My sluggish mind finally kicking into gear, I look at the distance between me, the creep and Joe. I’m closer to the kidnapper. It’s up to me to stop the scum.
Don’t worry, sister. I’ll save you!
Adrenaline pumping through me, I kick off my heels and run toward him. My belly protests—a lot—but I clench my teeth and keep going. I can heave after I rescue my sister.
The kidnapper dumps Curie in the passenger seat of a fancy convertible. I have to keep him from leaving, so I jump in front of the car. He slams on the brakes.
“You fucking crazy?” he screams. “I almost ran you over!”
Yeah, he did. My legs are shaking, and it’s not all from the sickness earlier. I breathe hard and place unsteady hands on the scorching hood of the car for balance. I’m afraid my knees are going to fold otherwise.
Come on, Pascal. Keep it together. Just long enough until Joe gets here.
Then, after two gulps of air, I lift my chin to face Curie’s kidnapper.
What the… Whiskey?
Shock punches me in the chest. My mouth parts, but then I close it again quickly to forestall more puking.
What is he doing here? Why is he trying to steal Curie from Joe?
“Skittles?” he says slowly.
“Yeah,” I croak, my throat still raw.
He takes a quick look at Curie, then turns back to me. He flicks a thumb at my sister. “Who the hell is this?”
What? He doesn’t know? “You’re asking me?” I try to straighten, but it doesn’t work. Now that the adrenaline is waning, I feel entirely too weak.
So I settle for a harsh rebuke instead. “You’re the one who kidnapped her!” Except…it doesn’t come out very strongly. Damn you, stomach bug!
“Hey, you! Shithead!” Joe finally arrives, puffing and red-faced. He immediately softens his voice. “Are you all right, darling?” he says to Curie.
“I guess…?” She finally pushes the veil out of her face. “I don’t think I’m hurt.”
“Are you guys…sisters?” Whiskey asks.
Given that his gaze is jumping from me, to Curie, to Joe then back to me, I have no idea who he’s talking to. But I should probably step in and fix this. After all, Whiskey is my mess, and I’m supposed to be the maid of honor. Comes with the job.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Twins.”
He looks at the sky, then places a hand over his eyes. “Oh for… Fucking TJ.”