Assignment: Marriage

by Jackie Merritt

  “What about food? Is there a café or something nearby?”

  “Just across the road.”

  Tuck glanced out the door and saw a squat little structure without lights. “Thanks.”

  Carrying the key, he walked outside. The office lights immediately went off behind him. He headed for the car and got in.

  “Got a room for the rest of the night,” he said while driving toward room number six.

  Nicole gave him a startled look. “One room?”

  “We’re married, remember?” he said dryly.

  “I hope it has two beds.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  She stiffened. “Well, where are you going to sleep?”

  He shot her a dirty look and pulled the car to a stop. “Bring in only what you have to.”

  Opening the trunk of the car, he hauled out the smallest of his suitcases. “Which one of yours do you want?”

  “I’ll get it myself,” Nicole answered sullenly.

  Tuck shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Together, each with a small suitcase, they walked to the door of room number six. Tuck inserted the key and unlocked the door, then pushed it open and felt around for a light switch.

  The room was plain and drab but appeared to be clean. As the man had said, it had a queen-size bed. Tuck set down his suitcase. “In case you’re interested, the gas station opens at eight. They have a mechanic on call, so with any luck at all we should be rolling again before noon. In the meantime, get some sleep.”

  Nicole was staring at the bed. One bed. “I am not sharing a bed with you,” she said frostily.

  “Then sleep in the damn chair.” Tuck yanked off the bedspread, rolled it into a tube and placed it down the center of the bed. “I get the side facing the door. Use the other, if you want. Believe me, lady, your chastity is in no danger from me. Even if I was so inclined, which I’m not, I’m too damn tired to do anything about it.” He disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  Three

  Nicole stood there tired and drained. Sharing a motel room with a man she had met no more than five hours ago was affronting, even if he had rather cleverly devised a barrier down the middle of the bed. Setting her suitcase on the floor, she went to a chair and wearily sat down. Tears were very close, burning her eyes and throat and making her head feel tight and achy. The room, though plain and outdated, seemed clean enough, except for the carpet, which was dingy from age and hard usage.

  What was she doing here? The question hit her benumbed brain without mercy. She should be home, in her own bed. She thought of all the postcards and notes she had written to her friends, and her lips clamped together in a thin line. Some of them would accept her brief message without question, but there were a few who might have a lot of questions. For one thing, the only close family she had was her mother, who lived in Florida. There were a handful of aunts, uncles and cousins scattered across the country, but Nicole’s nearest and dearest friends knew that she didn’t stay in touch with her distant relatives. “Family emergency” was a pretty vague message and apt to raise more questions than it answered.

  As for her mother, Nicole had ignored John Harper’s orders and written Jane Currie a letter. She’d tried to make it one of her normal letters, with only a few lies about a business trip for the Monte Carlo, knowing that a postcard with a ridiculous message would only alarm the older woman. The letter would buy her some time with her mother, Nicole felt, and maybe this mess would come to a head before Jane did become alarmed.

  The bathroom door swung open and Tuck walked out. Seeing Nicole in a forlorn heap on the chair, he squared his shoulders to forestall another bout of sympathy.

  “I’m going outside for a minute.”

  Her eyes lifted to his and for a moment, the first time really, their gazes connected. A peculiar tingling traveled Nicole’s spine, a discomfiting sensation. Turning her head, she nodded. He walked past her and out the door.

  Sighing despondently, she got to her feet, picked up her case and went into the bathroom.

  Tuck unscrewed the bulb in the light fixture next to the door, then stood in the dark and scanned the area. Everything was silent and he felt none of the wariness he normally did when faced with danger.

  Going to the car, he quietly opened the driver’s door, got his gun from under the seat, locked the car and returned to tighten the bulb before entering the motel room. There was a dead bolt and a chain on the door, and he used both. Then, placing his holstered gun—and his pack of cigarettes—on the nightstand, he kicked off his boots and stretched out on top of the blanket on his side of the bed. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes. He was tired through and through, and a few hours of sleep seemed like a gift.

  Turning on his side, with his back to the tube of bedspread, he shut his eyes.

  Nicole opened the bathroom door and turned off the light at the same time. The lights were still on in the bedroom and Officer Hannigan was already in bed. Or rather, he was on the bed, his back to her, fully clothed except for his boots.

  Her gaze went from the chair to the vacant side of the bed, back and forth several times. It was no contest, she finally decided. She had to lie down and if Hannigan could sleep in his clothes, she could damn well sleep in hers.

  “Turn off the lights.”

  “Oh! I thought you were sleeping.” Nicole went to the light switch by the door and flipped it off. The room was instantly pitch-black, and she had to feel her way to her side of the bed.

  But once there and lying down, she heaved a sigh of pleasure. She had worried about falling asleep, but she was dead to the world in three minutes.

  Only half-awake, Tuck reached for a cigarette. Then he remembered who was sleeping on the other side of that mound of bedspread and pulled his hand back. Sitting up, he put his feet on the floor and checked his watch: 7:15 a.m. Standing, he headed for the bathroom and a shower.

  Nicole began to stir. The shower was running. Suddenly recalling where she was, her eyes jerked opened and she sat up. Hannigan’s side of the bed was vacant. Then she spotted the gun on the nightstand. Gnawing at her bottom lip, she stared at the black leather holster and the weapon. She hated guns and was on the political side of much stricter gun control.

  But Hannigan was a cop, and cops had to carry weapons.

  Tom King…Tuck Hannigan. And she was supposed to be Cheryl King, his wife. God, had ever a more mismatched couple run into each other? He was rude, cold, and had the compassion and sense of humor of a rock. She had never liked people of his ilk, much preferring those who laughed at silly jokes and themselves. Hannigan was so uptight he probably never smiled let alone laughed.

  Getting off the bed, Nicole walked over to the window, opened the short drapes a crack and peered out. The sun was bright, making the morning air glisten. Across the street was a wood-sided building with a simple, painted sign: Café. She smiled. The no-name café was a welcome sight. A cup of good, hot coffee was exactly what she needed.

  Tuck came out of the bathroom. “Get away from the window.”

  Nicole whirled around. “I only had the curtains open a crack.” She registered his damp hair, shiny jaw and clean shirt. It dawned on her then that he was unusually good-looking. Tall and long-legged, with a lean but muscular build, and a handsome, brooding face. Her lips pursed because she didn’t want to think him good-looking. He wasn’t just a man, he was her protector, and a damned rude one, to boot.

  Tuck set down his suitcase. “I’m going over to that café and get us some breakfast. What would you like?”

  “Why can’t I go?”

  “Because you can’t. What do you want to eat?”

  “Must you be so rude?”

  “Rude?” He looked away for a moment then returned harder eyes to her. “This isn’t a game, lady, and the sooner you get that through your head, the better we’ll get along.”

  “We’ll get along only if I jump to your commands.”

  He sized her up with a flinty-eyed
stare. “That’s about it. Now, tell me what you want for breakfast.”

  She wanted to say, “Go to hell!” but she had the feeling that he’d go across the street, fill his own stomach and to heck with hers.

  “Coffee and…toast.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Orange juice.”

  Tuck shrugged. “You got it. Lock the door behind me, and stay away from the window.” Out he went.

  Obediently, though angry enough to spit, Nicole threw the dead bolt and hooked the chain. “Jerk,” she mumbled, taking up her suitcase and heading for the bathroom.

  They were on the road again by ten. To Nicole’s intense annoyance, Hannigan had made her stay in the motel unitlocked in, and away from the window, of course—while he saw to the car’s repair. Fortunately the problem was easy to fix, though to be honest Nicole wasn’t interested enough in what it had been to ask. Her mood was growing blacker by the hour, and what really bugged her was that Officer Hannigan didn’t even seem to notice. Was she invisible, or what?

  The miles of central Nevada sped past, miles in which Tuck said not a word. Finally, Nicole could take no more.

  “Are you always this nice?” she asked in an acid tone.

  “What?” His eyes left the road to send her a frowning look.

  “I said, are you always this nice?”

  He looked at the road again. “I’m not here to entertain or amuse you.”

  She put on a exaggeratedly surprised expression. “No kidding! Boy, you sure could have fooled me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What do I want? Well, let me see. I want this car going in the opposite direction. I want to be at my desk instead of heading north. I want…”

  “I didn’t put you in this situation.”

  “Neither did I, dammit! Not intentionally,” she added, so frustrated and furious she marveled that steam wasn’t rolling out of her ears. “Why did they pick you for this job?”

  “Meaning, you’d rather have someone else? How do you know? Maybe I’m the nicest guy on the force.”

  “Oh, please.”

  Tuck shook his head, plainly displaying disgust. “I’m not going to argue with you. Save your gripes for someone else.”

  “If I ever see anything else suspicious, rest assured that the police won’t hear about it,” she said with distinct bitterness.

  “Wonderful attitude,” Tuck muttered.

  “Well, how would you like to be banished from your own home?”

  “If it brought down two killers, I’d like it just fine.”

  She sent him a dirty look. “You probably would.”

  “Look, hasn’t it occurred to you that this little trip could be saving your life? Harper probably told you something like that, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she said sullenly. Remembering how the dark Lincoln had slowed down as it drove past her car that night, she shivered. The police were right and she was wrong, but why did they have to stick her with a coldhearted, hardnosed, inconsiderate jerk like Tuck Hannigan?

  A side glance caught his granite profile, irritating her all over again. She wanted to ruffle his feathers. Under that inch-thick layer of cop skin had to be a human being.

  “Wasn’t your name in the papers a while back?” she asked.

  Tuck heaved a sigh; she had finally remembered. “Yeah, it was. But I don’t want to talk about it, so just drop it.”

  “You really enjoy giving orders, don’t you?” Her mouth twisted. “And I really hate taking them.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” He sent her a hard look. “But you will take them. When I say move, you move. When I say stop, you stop. And I don’t care if there are people around or not. There’s a reason behind every order I give you, and I’m not going to waste time explaining every word I say.”

  “Oh, really? Telling me to drop a subject of conversation is important to this…this fiasco?”

  “No, but my life isn’t open for discussion.”

  “I suppose mine is, though.”

  “If it pertains to this job, yes. Otherwise, no.”

  Nicole folded her arms and stared broodingly out the side window. This was high country, with vast stretches of barren, sage-covered land. Because there was nothing else to do, Nicole reached for the atlas she’d seen lying on the back seat, flipped the pages to the one of Nevada and began coordinating their location with the map. The mountains she could see coming up were the White Pine Mountains. Behind them were the Monitor Range, the Toquima Range and the Shoshones. It looked to her like they were only about forty miles out of Ely. That was good, because she needed to find a rest room.

  Laying the atlas on the seat between them, she said her piece. “I need to stop at the first gas station or restaurant we come to.”

  He shot her an annoyed look. “Already?”

  “Would you like a detailed explanation?” she asked with saccharine sweetness. “Or may I keep the personal aspects of my life private?”

  “Keep any damned thing you want private. Do you hear me asking questions about your personal ‘aspects’?”

  “Well, thank you very much, Mr. Congeniality,” she. said with heavy sarcasm.

  “You’re not the greatest traveling companion, either, lady.”

  Anger rose in Nicole like steam billowing from a vat of boiling water. What she wouldn’t like to tell this overbearing jerk! Clamping her lips shut to stop herself, she turned her face to the side window.

  Tuck’s stomach was tight with resentment. Joe had pulled a fast one on him. She’s a nice woman. You’ll like her. Yeah, right. If Nicole Currie was nice, he was the tooth fairy. So far on this trip she’d wallowed in self-pity, bitten his head off several times, and argued against every one of his instructions. “Orders,” she called them. Why, oh, why, had he fallen for that “cushy job” line of Crawford’s? Right now he could be peacefully driving along by himself, going somewhere to be alone and think his own problems through. Instead he had this…this emotional female on his hands.

  He had put on his dark sunglasses for driving, and out of the corner of his eye he took a look at his passenger. Without that resentful expression on her face she would be prettier than average. He liked her short hairstyle, which was unusual as he normally preferred long hair on women. But the cut fit Nicole’s features. Like himself, she had put on a clean top with last night’s jeans. Today she was wearing a sleeveless red knit shirt with a V-neck. There was a delicate gold chain around her creamy throat and small gold earrings in her ears. She had put on makeup, too. Not a lot, he would swear, just a little blusher and some lipstick. Also, she must have used a few dabs of that same perfume he’d noticed last night, because the scent was faintly in the air.

  His gaze returned to the road and stayed there. She might be pretty and she might smell good, but they were not going to be friends. Acquaintances, eventually, probably, but he wasn’t looking for a female friend, particularly in this situation.

  “There’s a truck stop ahead,” Nicole stated.

  “I see it.”

  Tuck studied the traffic around the truck stop and his heart skipped a beat. The white sports car that had passed him last night was at a gas pump. He scanned the area for its driver and decided the person must be inside the building.

  Wheeling into the truck stop, he parked next to the restaurant. Leaving the engine idling, he turned in the seat. “I’m going in to check things out. You wait here.”

  Nicole’s eyes widened. “But I need…”

  “I said, wait here. If everything’s all right, you can go in.”

  She drew an exasperated breath, which Tuck didn’t hear as he was already out of the car and heading for the building.

  At the counter there was a line of people—two men and three women—waiting to pay for their purchases. Tuck hung back and looked them over, as one by one they paid for gas or miscellaneous items and walked out.

  A long-legged blonde wearing white shorts and a tight yellow T-shirt got into the spor
ts car, gunned the engine and took off.

  Tuck went outside and back to his car. “Okay, you can get out now,” he said, sliding behind the wheel.

  “Thank you very much,” Nicole said waspishly, opening her door and hurrying into the building.

  Lighting a cigarette, Tuck rolled down his window and thought about that sports car. Its driver being a woman meant nothing. In fact, it would be pretty smart of Lowicki to send a woman to tail him and Nicole, but that would mean that Lowicki. had somehow learned of the department’s plans to protect Nicole outside of Nevada, which only a handful of cops were supposed to know.

  Seeing that car twice was probably only coincidence, Tuck thought, though the scowl on his face wouldn’t quite go away. Tossing his cigarette out the window, he grabbed the atlas to study the Nevada map. The logical route north from Ely was Highway 93, which was his planned route. But what was best, to take 93 or to cut west on 50 and then take another road north? His scowl deepened. At this rate they’d never get out of Nevada, let alone reach northern Idaho.

  Nicole came out and hopped into the car. She had a paper bag with her. Tuck looked at it questioningly.

  His expression rubbed her wrong. “It’s just some snacks,” she said defensively.

  “So what did we really stop for?” he asked coldly. “The rest room or snacks?”

  “Both,” she snapped, although buying some chips and soft drinks hadn’t occurred to her until she’d come out of the rest room.

  It wasn’t until they were several miles out of Ely that she noticed the Highway 50 sign. Frowning, she checked the map and asked, “Why are going west again? Highway 93 goes directly north.”

  “Just playing it safe,” Tuck said.

  “Wait a minute. We’re zigzagging the state. I thought we’d stay on 95 and you changed directions at Tonopah. Now you’re doing it again. Has something happened I’m not aware of to make you waste so much time?”

  “In a hurry to get to Idaho?”

  “No, I’m not in a hurry,” she said sharply. “But I have a right to know what’s going on.”