Assignment: Marriage

by Jackie Merritt

  With every light inside the car out of commission, Tuck switched off the radio and slowly meandered back into the house, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  He couldn’t load the car until nightfall, any more than he and Nicole could drive away until then. But there were still things to do in the cabin. Nicole had folded and put away the paper bags that the supermarket had used to transport the food they’d bought on their shopping trip. Locating the bags, Tuck unloaded the cupboards and filled the sacks.

  He’d previously noticed an insulated ice chest in the Mathisons’ laundry room, which he needed to borrow to hold the items from the refrigerator. There was plenty of ice as the fridge had an automatic ice maker. He would see that the Mathisons were reimbursed for the chest once he was back in Vegas and this godawful nightmare was behind them. For now, he couldn’t worry about ethics and principles. He had no idea where he and Nicole would end up, but if they had food and water—he filled four gallon-size jugs—they could camp out, if necessary. Which, of course, meant filching some of the Mathisons’ bedding.

  He was creating a small mountain of luggage, food and bedding in the kitchen, he realized, standing back to frown at it all. It would take numerous trips from cabin to car to load it, and maybe that was too much risk.

  Going down the hall, he rapped on Nicole’s door. “Nicole? I need your help. Could you give me a hand?”

  She opened the door, blushing slightly as she faced him for the first time since their wild lovemaking. She needn’t have been concerned. Hannigan’s expression wasn’t even remotely personal.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Come to the kitchen.” He took off.

  Trailing behind him, she couldn’t help admiring his physique. She’d seen him naked and touched him all over. His body was a work of art, completely masculine and utterly beautiful. The way the seat of his jeans was filled out was positively sinful. If he should suddenly turn around and suggest they return to the bedroom together, she’d go in a heartbeat, the mere thought of which made her pulse pump faster.

  In the kitchen Tuck put his hands on his hips. “We need to sort through this stuff and bring it down to about a third.”

  Looking at the array before her, Nicole’s jaw dropped. “You’re taking the food? And the Mathisons’ blankets?”

  “Their ice chest is a must.” Tuck went to the pile and moved the ice chest to one side. “So is the water.” Over went the four gallon-size jugs. “But we can’t take all of the food. Would you help me go through it and decide what’s most important?”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

  “We might have to camp out for a few nights.” His gaze became intense and bored into her. “I’m going to get you away from here, Nicole, but we might have to avoid the main roads for a while.”

  “Have you studied the map? Do you know in which direction we’ll be going?”

  “East, into Montana. There’s a lot of wilderness in western Montana. I’ll find us a safe spot.”

  The subject made Nicole uneasy. If she really dwelled on it, it made her more than uneasy. On the verge of screaming, actually. She trusted Hannigan, but did he know anything about “wilderness” and “camping out”? Her own knowledge wouldn’t fill one sheet of paper—double-spaced.

  Taking an unsteady breath, she looked at the items he had amassed. “Well…I suppose the best thing to do is to take all the food out of the bags and start over,” she said.

  Tuck nodded. “Right, that’s what we’ll do. I’ve been thinking about our suitcases, too. Your four and my two add up to an awful lot of luggage.” He moved to lean against the counter. “It’s like this, Nicole. Once it’s dark, we’re going to have to load the car. Incidentally, do you have something in black you can wear?”

  “I have black jeans and a long-sleeved sweatshirt.”

  “Good. I’ll be wearing black, too. Anyway, we can’t go back and forth between the car and the cabin more than a few times.” He eyed the bedding. “We have to have the blankets,” he said, walking over to move them next to the ice chest and water.

  Then he looked at her. “We’re each going to have to make do with one suitcase. One small suitcase.”

  “One! Tuck, other than formal wear and some of the things I wear to work, I brought practically every stitch I own. I can’t leave all my clothes behind.”

  “You can get them later, same as me. Sorry I told you to pack everything, but you’re going to have to go through your suitcases and take only what you can’t do without.”

  She sighed heavily, demonstrating her reluctance on that score. But she would do as he asked, reluctant or not. “All right. Let’s tackle the food first.”

  Together they unloaded the paper sacks, made their choices, and then filled only two. Tuck stood back. “Okay, we have the ice chest, water, the bedding and two sacks of food. That’ll keep us going for a few days. Go now and see to your luggage.”

  Nicole was depressed over this turn. At John Harper’s advice she had packed for all variations of weather, other than winter. It was good that it wasn’t winter right now, because her entire wardrobe—both here and in Vegas—did not include any cold-weather gear.

  Sorting through her clothes in her bedroom, she crammed jeans, underwear, plain shirts, pajamas, a jacket and her cosmetic bag into her smallest suitcase.

  In the kitchen Tuck returned the food they weren’t taking with them to the cupboards. Glancing out the window he saw that at long last the sun was getting low on the horizon. He knew Nicole thought everything would be fine because they were leaving after dark, which was the way he wanted it. He hadn’t talked about infrared scopes and such as there was little point to scaring her more than she already was over something she could do nothing about.

  Physically his stomach muscles were as tense as a tightly coiled spring. Emotionally, though, he was prepared for their furtive departure. Now, more than ever, he was determined to keep Nicole safe.

  Going to his bedroom, he emptied his two suitcases and repacked the smallest with the bare essentials. Then he changed into black jeans and T-shirt and slid his gun into the holster at the small of his back. Picking up his suitcase and a black vest he’d left out to put on later, he returned to the kitchen.

  He was ready to go.

  Dressed all in black, Nicole entered the kitchen carrying her small suitcase. Tuck took it from her hand and set it near his own. His gaze washed over her outfit. “You look good in black.”

  She checked his outfit, jeans, T-shirt and vest, all in black. “So do you.”

  He cleared his throat. “I made some sandwiches and coffee. You’d better eat,” he told her. “Keep up your strength. It could be a long night.”

  The air seemed electrically charged. They were both on edge over the night ahead, but sharing the same modest space with them was a memory of hot kisses and steamy sex.

  Nicole picked up a sandwich. “How much longer till dark?”

  “Another hour or so.” Tuck reached for his cup of coffee and took a swallow. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her. Now that everything was ready to go, he found himself thinking of that surprising interlude on her bed again.

  She took a few bites of the sandwich and laid it on a napkin on the counter, sighing in the process. “I guess I’m too keyed up to eat,” she murmured.

  “Understandable,” he said softly.

  His tone made her skin tingle, because it gave away his thoughts. So did the expression in his eyes. Before today she had thought his eyes to be the coldest she’d ever seen.

  They weren’t cold now. She couldn’t move, not with him looking at her like that. He set down his cup and took the few steps that separated them. Sliding his hands around her waist, he stared down at her.

  “When this is over…” he began.

  “Yes? When this is over?” she prompted, her voice sounding husky and sensual. She saw his tongue flick to dampen his lips. “You’re very
different than I first thought,” she whispered, lifting a hand to touch his jaw with her fingertips.

  “I can say the same about you.”

  She let her hand drift down from his jaw, tracing the curve of his throat, and lower, down his chest to the waistband of his jeans. “I never expected…”

  “Neither did I,” he said hoarsely. Then he laughed, shortly, sharply. “Making love with you was the last thing I expected out of this trip.”

  “Are you…sorry about it?”

  “Do I wish it hadn’t happened, you mean?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

  His eyes probed hers, as though looking for answers. “It might have been better if it hadn’t.”

  “For you?”

  “No, for you.” Releasing his hold on her, he backed away. “For both of us, I suppose. The timing’s bad. We— I’ve got to keep a clear head.”

  “Sex sort of muddies the water, doesn’t it?”

  His expression became slightly cynical. “Yeah, it does.”

  Nicole turned to pinch a piece of bread and meat from her sandwich. “Do…do you have a…girlfriend in Vegas?”

  “No wife, no girlfriend. How about you?”

  “No husband, no boyfriend,” she said quietly, though her heart was beating a mile a minute. If he asked her to undress right here in the kitchen, she would do it. She’d almost started undressing him when her hand had been at the waistband of his jeans. She had it bad for Officer Tuck Hannigan, or was what she was feeling more accurately phrased by saying that she had it good? Was it good or bad to want a man so much that she was willing to undress for him if he should merely hint at feeling desire for her body?

  He wasn’t hinting, though certainly there’d been something sexual in his mind when he’d taken her by the waist.

  The natural light in the kitchen was fading; the sun had dropped behind the mountains.

  “It won’t be long now,” Tuck said, speaking low. “I’m going to do what I’ve been doing every night, turn on the porch lights. The front porch light, that is.” He didn’t dare turn on the back light as the car was parked within its range. “The idea is to make whoever’s watching us think we’re not alarmed and following the routines we’ve established since coming here.”

  “Makes sense,” Nicole murmured rather absently. In truth, she wasn’t at all engrossed in their escape, which God knew she should be. But with the dimming light, Hannigan’s dark beauty, and the ache between her own legs, nothing else, not even the threat of those vultures out there, was strong enough to cool the fever searing the very marrow of her bones.

  “Try to eat a little more,” Tuck said in that same low tone before departing the kitchen to snap on the front porch light.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Nicole shivered as though chilled. When this is over…he’d said. Did that mean what she hoped it did? Was it possible he was becoming as obsessed with her as she was with him? Would he make love to her again right now if he wasn’t waiting so intently for darkness to cloak the area? And then, when they returned to Vegas…

  Well, it will happen one day, she thought defensively. Eventually this…this horror movie would be over and she and Hannigan would be home again.

  Home. She groaned out loud.

  Tuck walked in. “What’s wrong?”

  Apparently he’d heard the groan. “Talking about it won’t make it right,” she said while pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  He studied her for a moment, then decided to drop the subject. She had more right to complain than anyone he’d ever known, but a discussion of what was wrong with their situation would only make it worse. At the very least, it would increase the tension they were both feeling.

  “I turned the light on in your bedroom. A lamp in the living room, too,” he said.

  Nicole nodded in approval of his attempt to make everything appear normal in the cabin.

  But the kitchen was dark and getting darker. “It won’t be long now,” Tuck said quietly.

  Nicole sipped her coffee, then set down the cup. “I’m going to turn the light on in my bathroom for a few minutes.” She managed a weak smile. “It’s necessary.”

  Alone, Tuck forced himself into a chair. Waiting had never been easy for him. On any job he’d ever gone out on, the waiting had been the hardest part. Stakeouts had always been murderous to his nerves, and he’d weaseled out of stakeout duty whenever possible.

  This was much too similar; waiting, sweating, wondering if he’d forgotten some tiny detail that would give his whole plan away in one fell swoop.

  Nicole walked in. “The bathroom light’s out again.”

  “Good. Lights going on and off will look good to…” He stopped.

  “Don’t avoid the obvious for my sake, Tuck. I know they’re watching us.”

  “Yes, but why talk it to death?” He got up to peer into the dark backyard through the kitchen window. “Another few minutes,” he murmured. “Then we’ll get moving.”

  “Whenever you say,” she said in a near whisper. Now that the time to leave was getting close, fear was again developing.

  Tuck turned from the window. “I’m going out first… with the suitcases and the blankets. If everything feels all right, I’ll come back in for the water jugs and the ice chest. Be prepared to follow me out with the food. Once outside, I don’t want any talking. We’ll get in the car, close the doors as quietly as possible and drive away without headlights.”

  “I understand.” Just for something to do, she rinsed out their coffee cups and put them in the dishwasher. Then she wrapped the sandwiches Tuck had made and they hadn’t eaten in paper napkins and tucked them into her shoulder bag. Her own observance of the back of the cabin was that it was black as pitch out there. She knew it was time to go before Tuck said so.

  “I’m going out now with the first load,” he told her. “Stand by the door.” He started for the suitcases and blankets, then stopped to look at her. “If anything happens, run like hell. Head for the trees and keep on running.” It wasn’t great advice, but it was all he had to give her.

  She tried to calm her racing pulse by breathing deeply. “I’m ready.”

  Tuck opened the door, then tucked his own suitcase under his left arm and picked up Nicole’s with his left hand. With his right hand he stacked the blankets between his suitcase and chin, keeping the load on his left side so his right hand would be free to grab his gun. He went outside, quietly opened the back door of the car and put everything on the seat. Straightening, he looked around, taking his time, and saw nothing that shouldn’t be there.

  Returning to the cabin, he stacked the water jugs on top of the ice chest and picked up the unwieldy load. Nicole tossed the strap of her purse over her shoulder and lifted the food bags to her arms. The paper sacks crackled, making her skin crawl.

  “Quietly now,” Tuck whispered.

  She nodded and silently followed him through the door and to the car. The water, food and ice chest were placed on the floor of the back seat, and Tuck motioned her to get into the car from the driver’s door.

  Then he froze. There were sounds, footsteps, distant and furtive but recognizable. Grabbing Nicole’s arm, he stopped her from sliding into the car. She looked at him with startled eyes, but he was listening too intently to notice. Closing the doors of the car without even a click, he began dragging her away from the car and cabin.

  She wanted to ask what he was doing, to question his actions, but she remained silent and permitted him to lead her into the trees and ultimately into the small storage shed that thus far had eluded her exploration.

  When the door of the shed was shut, Tuck put his lips close to her ear and whispered. “There are two people out there, coming from the lake. Don’t talk, don’t move.”

  Nicole thought she might faint. She was either going to hyperventilate from fear or stop breathing altogether. Tuck whispered in her ear again. “There’s a chance they don’t know about this shed.”

  His thoug
hts went further. When those two killers discovered that the cabin was empty and the car was loaded for travel, they would start looking for them. The shed wasn’t invisible, merely partially concealed by the heavy growth of timber and brush. If the two men searched at all, they would eventually stumble across it.

  There was a high, small window on the east wall, and Tuck stood to one side of it with his gun drawn. “Get down,” he whispered to Nicole. “Lie on the floor.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. Nicole dropped at once, then lay there and worried about throwing up. The fear in her system was making her nauseous. She could just barely breathe and her heart was pounding so hard it hurt.

  The shed smelled musty, of old wood and dampness. The floor wasn’t clean; she could feel the dust and dirt under her hands. Instinct demanded flight, to get up and run. Passively awaiting death with her face on a dirty floor was ludicrous.

  Cautiously lifting her head, she sent Hannigan a beseeching look. In the darkness he appeared as an even darker, statue-still silhouette. She could make out the gun in his hand, pointed upward. His attention was focused on the outside, not on her, her almost paralyzing fear or her physical discomfort.

  “Tuck,” she whispered plaintively. “Do you see anything?”

  His head jerked around and he put a finger to his lips. It was a brief, staccatolike movement, taking up only a fraction of a second, and then he was squinting through the window again.

  Two shadowy figures appeared at the top of the rise from the water. Tuck tensed. His eyes narrowed in speculation as they separated, one disappearing at the front of the cabin and the other creeping stealthily around to its hind side. They were going to rush the doors, he thought, one slamming through the front door, the other going through the back. It was good strategy for taking people by surprise.

  Tuck lowered the barrel of his gun, aiming it at the person behind the cabin. He knew he could take him out with one shot, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Sweat broke out on his forehead and under his arms. He could tell that the person was carrying something in his right hand, but he couldn’t make out what it was.