A Necessary Deception

by Lucy Farago

  “Not the point. You’re just lucky she bought it. She had this weird look on her face. She took so long to reply, I didn’t know if she thought I was lying, or if she was imagining what we were doing. I couldn’t wait to close the door on her. Well?” She reached out and took his coat, hanging it with hers behind the closed door.

  After stripping off his boots, he led her to the small sofa by the fire. There, he told her everything. “You don’t seem surprised,” he said, when he’d finished, and her expression remained blank.

  “I was remembering a report I read on this fentanyl problem. It claimed senior citizens and cancer patients were selling their medication. One single patch can fetch anywhere from three to six hundred dollars on the streets. That’s a lot of money for someone on a tight income or dying and wanting to leave their family something. Before the problem turned into an epidemic, nobody was paying attention to it. Then kids started breaking in to seniors’ homes, hoping to score the stuff. It was shocking to me then, you know, that someone who should know better would peddle narcotics. Maybe these people are no different. And maybe your theory is wrong.”

  “Maybe.” Or maybe they knew exactly what they were pushing and didn’t give a shit who they hurt. “Sometimes you can be so far removed from the problem that it’s inconsequential. If you’ve never seen firsthand what the drug does, you can pretend it isn’t killing people.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t want to wait to see if they have ties with Russia. Maybe this is where they were bringing you. To an outpost they have up here.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He’d guessed that from there they’d have shipped her directly to Russia, but he didn’t want to tell her that. It didn’t matter what they’d intended. He’d fucked up their plans. And he planned to keep them that way. “We need to leave. Let’s start collecting supplies, and a map, if we can find one. Then we take the snowmobile and get the hell out of here.”

  * * * *

  Over the next few days, they each did their best to pilfer supplies: water, first aid, dried fruit and beef jerky, things that could travel. He suspected more of what they needed he’d find in the outbuilding. The saw and everything else he’d grabbed out of the cave, the gun, if they were lucky, and a satellite phone if they were even luckier. During the time they’d been here, he’d noticed little if any activity late in the evening. So, as much as he disliked traveling at night, it was their best option.

  “Ready?” Taylor had suited up and now waited for him by the door.

  He didn’t like having to bring her, but if he was discovered, he’d have to make a run for it, and he wasn’t leaving her behind. “Now, remember what I said.”

  “Watch for lights. Try not to make any noise. And do what you tell me.”

  She said the last with enough sarcasm that he had to ask, “Are you going to give me a hard time about it?”

  “No. You’re trained. I’m not,” she said, repeating his words.

  “You still okay with grabbing the gun if you see it…and maybe using it?” He had to know she would defend herself.

  “I told you, I’ve fired a gun before. I went to a firing range with friends. Until I discovered my friends were drinking behind my back. I’d have left even if we hadn’t been kicked out.”

  “You have…strange friends.”

  “I had irresponsible friends. But when my inheritance went, so did they. They were there for the money, never for me,” she said. “Never for me.”

  “Sorry. But people like that—”

  “I know. I figured out their number even before Daddy cut me off. Trouble was, I had no one else. I allowed them to use me. My fault.”

  “I promise. I will always,” he leaned in, “always be there for you.” He didn’t want to come across as needy, but he wanted her to know that should she need him, he’d be there. If she doubted it, he put everything he had in the kiss. With his mouth, he hoped to convey he’d never abandon her. Maybe something more slipped into the kiss, some part of his subconscious that needed to be…no, not needed—need only pushed people away—that wanted to know love. But he couldn’t control that part of his brain. What he could do was show her she was important to him and would always be important to him. Trouble was, she tasted so good, he wanted more. He couldn’t help wanting more where she was concerned. He’d never get enough of her.

  He whipped off his gloves and cupped her face. For now, this would have to do…and maybe later he’d grow a pair and tell her what was really going on in his head…and heart. Her warmth seeped into his palms, and when his fingers combed into her hair and brushed the back of her head, he swore it wasn’t only heat pouring into his hands. It was Taylor. It was the way she could make him laugh, zapping every one of his nerve endings. It was her courage, her goodness, caressing his flesh, making his bones tingle. It was the way she looked at him, bleeding into his very soul. And he loved it. Holy shit. He loved it. Abruptly, he ended the kiss.

  “Wow,” she said, looking as dazed as he felt. “You really meant that, didn’t you?”

  He did. Was now a good time to tell her he wanted more than friendship? But her eyes glassed over. Shit, what had he done wrong? “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to let you know you can count on me.”

  “Yeah, I get that you believe that.”

  “You don’t?” Had he come on too strong? Maybe he’d dodged a bullet in keeping his mouth shut.

  “I’m being practical. It’s hard to be there for someone when you live in two different cities.”

  He let himself relax. She was just being practical. “Oh, well, that’s what they have planes for.” A hometown never had been important to him. He could pick up and move to whatever city Ryan needed him in. Home base was Vegas, but he didn’t actually live in one city. He laughed. “Ryan owes me lots of vacation time.”

  He shifted the curtain on the window by the door and looked outside. As the only light was from the half moon, the assumption would be that everyone was asleep. It wasn’t necessarily the right one. They themselves had been sitting in the dark all night, wanting people to think they’d gone to bed. He glanced over at Taylor, whose unhappy expression concerned him. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong.”

  Taylor tried to decide how much of what she wanted to tell him would make her look foolish. Friends who didn’t live in the same city might see each other a couple of times a year and then, inevitably, something would come up. Things always did when you were just friends. They’d talk less and less, until he’d only call on her birthdays and holidays. Cards would eventually replace calls, and then those too would go by the wayside. Eventually, he might forget her. It wasn’t his fault. Promises made in the wilds of Alaska could be easily forgotten when their survival was no longer at stake. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, because it was true.

  “Are you worried we won’t get out of here? Is that it? Look.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “If you can blow up a tree and slap C-4 onto a sled, saving my ass from two very nasty assholes, the two of us together can surely get the hell out of Dodge.”

  “It’s not that.” He was right. She could do a lot of things she’d never thought herself capable of. Maybe she’d gone through so much shit in the last month of her life that she was growing numb to the danger. And more aware of Monty and the emotions tugging at her heart.

  “I see. You think when this is over, it’s over. You’ll go your way, I’ll go mine. That’ll only happen if you, if we, let it. Is that what you want? Because if you’ve changed your mind—”

  “No. But sometimes things are out of our control.” Things like other women. She jerked her hat down low over her ears.

  “Sure. Absolutely. This doesn’t have to be like that. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

  She met his eyes and said what was truly bothering her. “I’m afraid I’ll lose yo
u.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, Taylor. Honestly, I can’t imagine going back to my life and not having you in it. I don’t know; maybe we’ll be like that show you watch. We’ll get home, and all this drama will be behind us, and we’ll discover this wasn’t what we thought it was. But for my part, I don’t make friends easily, and I form connections and bonds even less. I think you know why, just like I know why you’re having a hard time with this. I’m not perfect; neither are you. I’m hoping you’re okay with that and maybe together we can get past our parent issues.” He drew a deep breath, as if drawing courage, having resigned himself to something. “Because I think we can have more than friendship. I want to see where this goes. If that’s okay with you?”

  “Are you serious?” Monty wasn’t the type to play games.

  “Yes. But I have bad trust issues. So, if you’re not interested, tell me now, and we’ll just be friends. But this is…important to me. I can be man enough to admit that.”

  “I have trust issues too,” she pointed out.

  “I know. So, let’s keep it real. This is more than friendship between us, right? Or is it me? Am I seeing something that’s not here?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said half-laughing, more scared than when she’d detonated that C-4.

  “Okay, then. Let’s see where this takes us. You trust me. I trust you.” Monty picked up his gloves from where he’d tossed them, looking like he had something else to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. When he remained silent, she reached for the doorknob. His hand covered hers.

  “Rhett,” he said.

  Confused, she asked, “Is this like that Marco Polo game kids play? I’m supposed to say Butler, then you come over her and kiss me.” Considering they’d just decided to take their friends with benefits to a new level… “Butler, Butler, Butler,” she said, presenting her lips to him in her sexiest pout. He kissed her, but she’d gotten better kisses from air-kissing friends. What the hell?

  “Rhett Montgomery Buchannan.”

  She blinked, the corners of her lips twitching when realization crested that mountain in all its sunshiny goodness.

  “Don’t laugh,” he warned.

  “I’m not laughing, but please tell me your mama had a thing for Rhett Butler.” She pressed her hands together in mock prayer, practically bouncing with giddiness. This was too perfect. She wouldn’t dare laugh at him. At least not until they could do it together. She knew what it was like to have a strange name made even stranger by a parent’s obsession with Hollywood stars.

  Monty—Rhett—she still couldn’t believe he’d told her—closed his eyes and hung his head. “It was her go-to movie, whenever she’d get dumped. If Rhett could treat Scarlett like shit and she vowed to survive, so could she.”

  A laugh escaped her, and he shot her a look that promised retribution. She couldn’t help it. It had slipped out. She slapped a hand over her mouth and said through her fingers, “I’m not laughing at you. I promise. It’s your mother. Was she really comparing herself to Scarlett O’Hara? Did she even read the book? It’s a little different than the movie.” It could be debated until the cows came home.

  “No, she never read the book. My mother didn’t read books. I’m fairly certain she was borderline illiterate, even though she’d never have admitted it to me. And yes, she saw herself as Scarlett, rising out of the ashes. Only ‘another day’ for her was another husband. So now you know.”

  She knew very well he meant his first name, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “That your mother wanted to be Vivien Leigh? Yeah, that’s weird.”

  “Not as weird as my name.” He glared at her.

  Grinning like some fool who’d been told she’d won the lottery, she threw her arms around him and whispered in his ear, “I’ll never tell another living soul.” He hugged back.

  She didn’t know exactly what his confiding in her would bring, but he’d trusted her with something no one else knew. To someone else it would be minor—silly, really—but now she understood what that name represented to Monty and why he’d hidden it from the world. And he’d entrusted her with that knowledge. The least she could do was trust him with her heart.

  Chapter 23

  “This is too easy,” Taylor whispered. “Don’t you think this is too easy?”

  He did, but that was from years of working for ICU, preparing for what lurked behind the corner or, in this case, the snowbank. “We would’ve had to give them reason not to trust us. As far as they know, our focus has been on each other. Lonnie finding you half-naked yesterday actually helped. They’ve got no reason to post guards when their only outsiders are busy fucking their brains out.” It was crass, but he could recall in full, living, blow-your-mind color what she’d done to him, and his brains had definitely left the building on more than one occasion.

  “My brain is intact and it’s telling me this is too easy,” she all but hissed.

  “Are you saying the sex was bad?” He’d be insulted if he didn’t know that wasn’t true.

  “Can you be serious for a minute? I’m not asking for much, Monty. One minute of your time. You think you can manage that?”

  She was so cute when she got all snarky. “I think there’s a chance you’re being paranoid. Just a chance. And the longer we stand out here, the more your paranoia could turn into reality. Now move your sexy ass so I can pick the lock.” He indicated the manual key lock securing the door to the ground by her feet.

  She glanced down. “How does that not freeze?” She moved to the side.

  “I’m guessing they lube it.” He knelt on one knee and hoped to God he remembered how to do this. If this didn’t work, they’d have to break a window.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Taylor squatted beside him.

  “I’ve only done it a couple of times, but it makes it a whole lot harder with you hovering.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips.

  “Fine,” she grumbled and stood.

  After several minutes and fruitless tugs on the lock, he was beginning to think the window was going to be their only option.

  “Monty…”

  “Give me a sec.” He’d pilfered paperclips he’d found, but maybe they weren’t the right size? This wasn’t what he was good at.

  “Monty…”

  “Hang on. I’m trying to figure out what else I can use.” And he was coming up short.

  “Monty,” she said, tapping his shoulder.

  He looked up.

  “It wasn’t locked.” She pointed to the open side door. “You were right. They don’t see us as a threat.”

  He got up off his knees. “No, what I said was they think we’ve been busy f—”

  She covered his mouth with her hand. “You are not funny,” she said in his ear.

  “I kind of am,” he said, his words muffled by her glove.

  She gave him a quick kiss. “You’re an ass.”

  “Yeah, that too. Stay here.” He took out the small flashlight they’d found in one of the kitchen drawers. Unless someone stood at this end of the building, directly behind them, the beam was inconsequential enough not to be seen. He checked the door for wires and, when he saw none, stepped inside the pitch-black building, keeping his light low to the ground. The windows were at the top half of the walls, but he couldn’t risk anyone looking their way. Once they were ready, they’d have to move fast. Someone was sure to hear the opening of the garage doors.

  “Is it clear? Can I come in?” Taylor asked.

  “It’s clear but really dark. Better you stay there and wait for me. Be our lookout. If you see anyone, get your ass in here.”

  “Okay.”

  The snowmobile was tucked to the side, but even in the dark, he could smell it. And, thankfully, it had already been gassed up, but while he was here, he might as well see exactly what kind of drugs they were distributing. The fo
ld-up tables were gone, only the chairs and heat lamps remaining. Sticking the flashlight in his mouth, he knelt and opened one of the larger boxes. Inside were lunch-size bags filled with round white pills. In another, he found orange capsules and, in another, yellow caplets. What the hell was this stuff?

  “Monty,” Taylor called out in a loud whisper. “What’s taking so long?”

  “It’s weird,” he said. “I have no idea what they’re pushing.”

  “Medicine.” The lights went on. Howie came out of a dark corner with one big-ass rifle in his hand.

  Monty’s head spun to Taylor, now being pushed inside by Ozzie, followed by none other than nice, sweet, no-way-was-she-peddling-drugs Lonnie. “Have a seat,” the old woman said, pointing to one of the chairs. “You fuck up leg I worked hard to get better and I be one very pissed-off healer.”

  “Taylor.” He reached for her, but Lonnie shut him down with another “sit,” this one not so much concerned about his health.

  He sat, willing the adrenaline pumping through his body to slow. He needed to think; fighting his way out could get Taylor killed. And they had guns; he didn’t.

  “I told you we shouldn’t trust them.” Ozzie held their knapsack in his hands.

  “Wow, you talk?” Monty shouldn’t provoke them, but nor did he want them thinking they were easy prey.

  “When I have something important to say. Like trusting a cheechako, too stupid to save his own hide after he sets fire to his cabin.”

  “Enough, Ozzie.” When it looked like he wanted to argue, Lonnie spoke to him in their own language. That shut him up. “Taylor, come.” Lonnie waved her over and pointed to the empty chair beside Monty.

  Taylor, unsure what to do, looked to him first. Monty nodded. For now, they would cooperate. Better she be near him anyway. She sat and, after spotting the open boxes, craned her neck to look inside. Her brows furrowed when she realized he’d been right. These people were drug runners.