Defensive Action

by Jenna Kernan

  “She broke it off?”

  “She did. You know what my first response was?”

  Haley shook her head.

  “Relief. We got along fine and that seemed a poor reason to get engaged and a worse one to get married. I should have told her that, instead of putting her off.”

  “You aren’t optimistic enough.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Optimistic enough to be married. It requires faith in the future and in another person.”

  He nodded. “That’s right. And a wife is a liability. Someone who could be used against me. And I couldn’t share what I do with her. I’m allowed to tell a wife what I do, but I wouldn’t. It would worry her too much. Katie would have freaked. Insisted I quit and get a job with her father. He leases commercial buildings. Can you imagine? I’d die all right, but it would be of boredom.”

  He chuckled and turned to see her reaction. He found Haley sagging in the dinette. Her eyelids drooped and her chin sank to her chest. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze. Her head snapped up and her eyes blinked open.

  “Would you like the bedroom or the sofa?”

  “What?” she glanced about and then seemed to remember where she was. “Oh, I want the bed, but I don’t want to be in there alone.” She looked up at him with wide innocent eyes.

  Adventure camp, he thought. Sleeping beside her might give her the kind of adventure she’d never planned on. As if she could have anticipated any of this.

  He knew she wasn’t coming on to him, but it didn’t matter to his body. The surging of energy and blood moved south and he shifted uncomfortably.

  “I don’t think that is such a great idea.”

  Her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, well, then you can take the bed. I’ll just sleep, uh, here?”

  He snorted and then set about stowing the nearly empty Sterno can. Then he wiped the empty pot and packed it and two unopened Sterno cans with his gear. He’d clean it when and if the opportunity presented itself.

  Then he extended his hand. “Come on.”

  She laced her fingers though his and he led her to the bedroom. The mattress was bare. He left her to retrieve his pack, pulling out the poncho blanket before retracing his steps.

  When he reached the bedroom, it was to find Haley had stripped out of her jeans. Her bra sat on the crumpled denim beside her boots. Haley lay curled on her side on the mattress, hugging a decorative pillow, dressed in socks, underwear and her jacket. Even in the blue moonlight filtering through the blinds, he knew it was a picture he’d not soon forget.

  He draped the poncho blanket over her. She sighed and nestled into the mattress.

  Then he sat on the bed and tugged off his boots. He remained dressed in his cargo pants and the borrowed flannel. It was little protection against the desire he held for her, but it would have to be enough. Fatigue tugged at his sore muscles and healing wounds.

  Ryan slipped beneath the coverings and Haley nestled up against him, seeking his warmth, he told himself. He tucked her close to his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head. He could get used to this.

  He closed his eyes and allowed himself to rest, dragged down into sleep like a creature caught in a vortex.

  He woke in the darkness to feel her moving. Her breathing had changed and her hand was splayed over his stomach. She’d threaded her palm under the hem of his shirt so that skin contacted skin.

  “Haley?” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. Just woke up.”

  “Sleep while you can.”

  She lay her head on the crook of her arm and then shifted, restlessly.

  “What?”

  “I have to pee.”

  “We best go outside,” he said.

  She slipped into her jeans and boots as he dragged on his boots. He headed outside into the chill. The wet grass clung to his legs as he led her behind the garage. Then he left her and continued on to the shed.

  He was just finishing when he heard the engine and then the crunch of tires on gravel. He crept back to Haley to find her peering around the corner of the garage.

  “Someone just pulled in,” she said.

  The cab door of the SUV opened, illuminating a young man who paused to retrieve his hat from the seat beside him. He knew that headgear. The hat looked exactly like the ones worn by Smokey the Bear except for the purple ribbon.

  “State police,” he said. “Wait here. I’ve got to get my pack.”

  The young man stood and adjusted his utility belt. Then he headed for the house.

  “He’ll see you,” she warned, holding his hand.

  The trooper moved out of his line of sight, heading for the front door.

  “If he goes into the house, I can get back to the trailer.”

  “But how will you get out?”

  “Haley, they’ll know we were there and the bed is probably still warm. We won’t get far on foot once they have our position.”

  She released him and he slipped out of cover and to the RV. He reached the entrance as the front door to the house opened. The trooper was speaking to someone. Ryan slipped inside the trailer and dashed to the bedroom, whisking the blanket from the bed. Then he retraced his steps, glad that his pack was ready and he had left no traces of their occupancy. He shouldered the pack and then turned to the open windows. He had the one by the dinette closed and was moving to the one above the sink. He closed it as the trooper returned down the walkway, his flashlight out and the beam shining along the path to the driveway and then lifting to the mobile home.

  He was trapped.

  Chapter Twelve

  Haley crept along the garage’s exterior wall, the wide rough planks flaking old paint as she went. From here she could see the state trooper heading from the ranch-style house to the mobile home. The wide beam of the flashlight illuminated the path before the young officer. She glanced back toward the wood line. She knew she could make it there but feared for both Ryan and the trooper. She could not stand the idea of anything happening to the young man or Ryan being arrested by the trooper.

  She crept toward the trailer, unsure what to do.

  Something scurried inside the garage. She froze in place and flattened against the wall. A large waddling mammal appeared from the open garage door. She recognized the gray body and ringed tail identifying the creature as a raccoon. She stepped toward the garage door opening as the plan flashed fully formed before her. The creature spotted her and trotted in the opposite direction down the driveway. Haley grasped the large plastic garbage bin and tossed it to its side. Then she darted out of sight along the outer wall of the garage.

  The flashlight beam swung in her direction. She crouched along the exterior of the building. She pressed her hand to her mouth, her body trembling as she waited in the cold night air. If she ran he might hear her. The crunch of gravel accompanied his footsteps in her direction.

  “Shoo! Get out of here, you.”

  The raccoon appeared in the beam of his flashlight as it moved perpendicular to both her and the trooper’s position. In a moment the officer vanished from the mown lawn into the tall grass bordering the driveway.

  The crunch of approaching footsteps grew louder. She recognized the sound of the garbage bin being righted. The trooper continued inside the garage. His flashlight beam shone through the dirty side window as the front door of the camper opened and Ryan descended. On his back was the single pack he carried. He carefully closed the door behind him and glanced about. She did not stand or give away her position but tracked him as he moved in a course parallel to the raccoon vanishing into the tall grass. Haley crept away from the garage, following Ryan. She continued through the field, pausing only when she was far enough from the buildings to be hidden in the tall weeds. There, she waited, listening. The beam of the flashlight moved from her position
. She lifted her head like a gopher from the grass to find the trooper’s light now shining through the window of a garden shed that she had not known was there. She ducked as the trooper emerged and flashed his light in her direction.

  She lay flat, holding one hand over her heart now crashing against her ribs. Several minutes later she heard his heels crushing the gravel again and then caught the familiar click and squeak of the screen door to the camper. Would he see any evidence of their occupancy?

  The grass was wet and she began to shiver as she waited an eternity for the sound of the trooper returning to the house. Then she recalled that wet grass left a definite trail and worried he might see the flattened blades or the silver trail of her footsteps on the shorter grass now covered with dew. The grass had been wet enough to soak her soaks and bare legs.

  She stared up watching gray clouds sweeping along the dark sky but realized she could not see stars. That meant that dawn was coming. Which direction was east?

  She had no idea, which reminded her again that she had no business playing secret agent with the real McCoy.

  At last came the engine of his cruiser turning over before the officer finally backed his vehicle out of the drive.

  She waited one minute. Two. And then the third. Finally, she stood up to find Ryan doing the same, his position a mere twenty-five feet from hers. She ran the distance that separated them, wet goldenrod and weeds lashing her legs. Then she threw herself into his open arms. He pulled her close.

  She pressed against the hard planes of his chest, her breathing rapid. Sweet relief flooded through her as she looked up into his rugged bearded face.

  Ryan inclined his head and she had time for a swift inhale of air before his mouth pressed to hers. The kiss was hard and demanding. She whimpered and opened her lips at his insistence.

  Now her heart pounded for a different reason. Her skin flushed and her body quickened. She wrapped her arms about his neck and dragged him closer, urging him to deepen the kiss.

  This was a bad idea. She slipped her tongue along his with quick darting thrusts. What was she doing? The hot rush of need chased away the cold.

  At last he pulled back, looking at her as if she had become a complete stranger. He shook his head as if to clear it.

  “Haley?” he said, as if unsure it was her.

  “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

  “It’s all right with me. But...” He still gazed at her as if she were a live grenade.

  “You kissed me first.”

  “I did. I did.” Was he trying to convince himself? “Never expected...”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just glad to see you. Lucky he went for the garage first. That ’coon knocked over a bin.”

  “I knocked over the bin just as soon as I saw the raccoon.”

  “You did that?”

  She nodded.

  “That was fast thinking.” He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, his fingers lingering on her neck as he stared down at her. His mouth opened as if he might say something else.

  “You really aren’t what I expected.”

  She lifted her brow in question and then turned her head to press her cheek to his palm, longing for the heat and rough scratch of his calluses on her sensitive skin.

  “I want to kiss you.”

  “You just did.”

  “That was relief. This one is something else.”

  “What?”

  “Not really sure. I thought, I just felt...” He pressed his mouth into a stingy line.

  She smiled and stepped closer, placing her hands on his shoulders.

  He kissed her again. This time his mouth was gentle, a sweet promise. The purr of longing rumbled from her throat. Her hands went under his shirt, caressing the smooth skin and taut muscle. He trembled in response and leaned in, pressing his hips to hers. She rubbed against him and he gasped.

  Ryan set her at arm’s length.

  “You know we still might not survive this.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “And if we do, I’ll be leaving you to deliver this intel.”

  “Ryan, you gave me a kiss. Not an engagement ring.”

  He nodded and then exhaled. Then he lifted the pack that lay beside him in the tall grass.

  “I just don’t usually kiss women like you. Most of the females I associate with are either operatives or women who are not looking for long-term company.”

  His insistence to put her into a category annoyed her. He had her all figured out, did he? Knew exactly the type of man she would prefer and exactly the sort of relationship she would insist upon?

  “It may interest you to know that I am also not interested in long-term relationships. Nor marriage. Nor raising a family. I enjoy my work, my friends and my own company.”

  Now his brows lifted.

  “Surprised?”

  He nodded. “Why no children?”

  It was none of his business, really.

  “Which direction shall we head now?” Haley looked from one direction to the next.

  “We have to make it to Lake George. I’d love to steal one of those cars, but chances are good they would hear it and us.”

  “There’s a bike in the garage.” Haley pointed back in the direction they had come.

  “The bicycle would be too hard to navigate on these gravel roads. And it is at least four miles to the lake and another six to the town of Lake George.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing that it’s a motorcycle and not a bicycle.”

  Ryan smiled and led the way back to the garage. It wasn’t exactly a motorcycle. More a motorbike, the kind a young man would use on a dirt track or private property. It even had a number fixed to the front between the handlebars.

  “This is great,” said Ryan. “I can roll it far enough away from the house that they won’t hear me hot-wiring the engine. Plus it’s a simple enough motor to jump and if we see or hear anyone else, this bike will be easy to put out of sight.” Ryan rocked the bike back and forth and heard the sloshing gasoline in the tank. He took the time necessary to locate a gas can and fill the tank before rolling the bike down the drive to the road. He walked beside the bike and she flanked the opposite side. They continued until the house was no longer in sight and then farther still. A mile, she thought, or darn close. It was hard to judge distances in the dark, she realized.

  “I think the motor might be pretty loud on this one. I see the tailpipe is rusted and it’s very likely going to roar once I get it started.”

  “What time do you think it is?”

  “Early. Maybe four a.m. See?” He pointed ahead of them to the sky. “Stars are fading and the sky is turning dark blue. Won’t be long before you can see bands of sunlight coming up in the eastern sky.”

  She turned to look at the ridgeline, a dark silhouette against the sky, and he laughed.

  “That way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

  Ryan stopped and asked her to hold the bike, which had no kickstand. He fiddled in the darkness and she wondered how he could see what he was doing.

  Suddenly the motor turned over with a growl. He twisted one of the handles and the motor coughed and then roared. She saw the flash of his teeth.

  “No room for the pack. Just give me a minute to get what we need.”

  He left nearly everything except the weapons, including the pistols he had taken from their attackers at Schroon Lake. He clipped the water bottle to his belt and stowed the guns in the various pockets of his cargo pants.

  “Can you carry these?” He offered the last of the snack packs.

  She put them in her coat with her multi-tool and waited while he swung a leg over the small bike.

  “Climb on,” he said. He looked enormous on the tiny bike.

  “Isn’t this bike designed for one?” />
  “I guess it is, so you better hold tight.” He scooted as far forward as his body would allow, keeping one foot on the ground to steady the bike as she gingerly climbed up behind him.

  Half her backside was off the rear of the seat. She wrapped her arms about his middle and squeezed tight. She felt the rumble of his laugh as he pushed off. She could see nothing over his wide shoulders. How he managed to navigate the graded road in the darkness, she could not say.

  Both the lack of light and her lack of view made it seem as though they were rocketing along at great speeds. However, she was fairly certain that a bike such as this could not go more than about fifty miles an hour.

  She saw evidence of other houses and felt the bump as they left the gravel and continued on pavement. When the engine slowed to an idle and he set his foot down she lifted her head.

  “Climb off.”

  She did, and followed him as he left the road for the wide shoulder that was in need of mowing. He rolled the bike down a short incline on the graded hill that allowed water to run off the highway and gave them an easy hiding place. There in the ditch he set the bike on its side. She watched the headlights approaching.

  “Down,” he said.

  They lay side by side as the vehicle moved past them and continued on its way. He waited until there was no sound before returning to the road. This same process was repeated three more times as the sky turned pink and then orange.

  Once underway again, she watched the sun’s rays touch the very tops of the tall pines at the ridge beside the road, gilding the needles. Sunrise, she realized, which meant it was about six in the morning. By the time they reached the road that flanked Lake George, the sun was well up.

  Though not among New York State’s Finger Lakes, Lake George was narrow and deep, and also carved by a glacier. The result was a long, beautiful body of water running north to south and stretching from the village of Lake George to Ticonderoga beside the southernmost tip of Lake Champlain.

  The fort once held the English territory against the French in the French and Indian War and was a reconstruction, she believed. She and her father had toured the historic site and watched the reenactors shoot off the cannons.