Chapter Seven

Jaime's car seemed to be the only one around as she screeched to a stop just outside the park. Resolutely, she stepped out onto the grass, but she never made it to the swings. A firm but gentle arm snaked around her from behind, stopping her before she'd even walked through the gate. Her breath caught in her throat until she realized the identity of her 'captor'.

"Steve...you can't be here right now; I've almost got her!"

Steve turned his wife around to face him. "Get back in the car, Jaime."

"But -"

"Now. I've never given you an order before – I wouldn't dare try – but you're coming home with me, right now, if I have to physically force you. I am not kidding."

Jaime raised her eyebrows at his commanding tone of voice but thought better of trying to argue. "I'll drive," Steve told her, and she handed him the keys before sliding over to the passenger side.

- - - - - -

Oscar's fury was not so well contained. Steve almost felt sorry for Jaime as he headed into the kitchen, leaving her alone in the living room with Oscar and Hansen (at Oscar's request) while the two men read her a dozen versions of the riot act.

"Would you like to tell me what possessed you?" Oscar demanded. "No – don't. It doesn't even matter. What does matter is that you couldn't possibly have been more foolish today, Young Lady. Take note that I am refraining from using the word stupid, but you can take ownership of that one, too."

Hansen took over. "You were damn lucky you were on the phone long enough for us to run a trace, and even luckier that your fiance saw you driving away and decided to follow you! Do you realize what could have happened?"

"You...ran a trace?" Jaime asked meekly.

"To a phone booth just outside of Ojai; no one was there, of course, because the person in question was apparently coming after you!"

"Without a word to anyone," Oscar fumed, "you just took it upon yourself -"

"I'm sorry," Jaime whispered. "I thought I was -"

"No!" Hansen interjected. "You weren't thinking, and that's the problem."

Steve had heard enough. "She said she was sorry," he said softly, re-entering the living room and taking Jaime in his arms. "I'm pretty sure we've seen the last of Vigilante Jaime now, right, Sweetheart?"

Jaime nodded. "I promise; no more taking off on my own. I...I'm sorry."

"We'll stick together like glue until the wedding," Steve vowed, "so we can both walk down the aisle in one piece."

- - - - - -

Steve and Jaime both kept their word, remaining together and in the house until the wedding day arrived. They let others run their errands and take care of last-minute details, but there was one concession Jaime was unwilling to make.

"I will NOT ride to the chapel with a bodyguard in the limo," she insisted. "Security can check his ID until they're good and satisfied, but my dress and I are going to take that ride the way we're supposed to – on our own!"

Steve finally conceded. "If he has a limo company ID and his driver's license, I suppose it'll be ok. We can have Security follow in another car. You'll live with that, right?"

Jaime nodded, smiling. "Thank you."

The dress had been delivered in a voluminous garment bag, and Jaime threatened Steve with the possibility of his singing Soprano if he dared try to peek at it. When the limo puled into the driveway, she was waiting serenely at the window with the dress and a small suitcase of supplies. Steve stood in the doorway, refusing to let her go until he saw the driver pass both forms of ID to the NSB team, who turned toward the house and nodded their approval.

"You can't kiss me until the ceremony," Jaime told him, ducking past him before he could try, and practically skipping out the door. She turned for one more gaze into Steve's eyes. "I love you – see you at the altar!" The driver, possibly intimidated by the extra security, remained inside the limo as one of the NSB men opened the door and helped Jaime inside.

The limo pulled slowly into the street before the driver spoke. "You'd probably like a ride to the chapel, wouldn't you?" he said in a soft, pleasant voice.

Jaime frowned. She knew that voice, but just couldn't place it. Then the driver pulled down a side street, slowed down slightly and turned to glance at his passenger. In his hand, pointed directly at Jaime, was a shiny silver pistol. "I'm sorry," he said with a slightly off-center grin, "but this car'll be taking another route."

Jaime's face paled as she got a good look at him, and her heart sank to her feet as she suddenly knew exactly what was going on. "Roger..." she whispered in horror, "it's...you!"

"In the flesh," he replied, right before pulling the trigger.

- - - - - -