Authors: Karen Troxel
Cutter leaned forward in the chair, placing his forearms on his thighs. “Think carefully and try to picture it like it’s a movie. Maybe that’ll help you remember more of what he said.”
***
Kerry closed her eyes and willed her mind back to that day. She knew Cutter was depending on her. She knew there had to be something she’d heard that would help them. She felt Cutter’s hand grasp hers, and her pulse sped up a bit. She put away the need and concentrated on the support instead.
As she began to relax, an amazing thing begin to happen to her. She could picture that afternoon in her mind as clearly as if she was reliving it. No, it more closely resembled watching a movie. She held her breath, not wanting to move or do anything that would interrupt the flow into her mind.
***
She walked in the house, the zippered case that protected her dress over one arm. She patted it once, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It was a shame about Mrs. Giancarlo. She felt a momentary pang of regret, then shook it off. She was trying to change how she thought. Dom was a virile, opinionated man. It wouldn’t do for him to have a wife who was a mouse.
It was a shame Mrs. Giancarlo had reacted so strongly to her suggestions for the wedding. And she would apologize for the way she’d delivered them, but it was her wedding. A bride had a right to get everything she wanted on her wedding day.
She was starting to head up the stairs to her room when she heard her father’s voice. Sighing a little, she decided she’d better go and warn him of the storm from the dress excursion. She rounded the newel post at the bottom of the stairs and headed down the small hallway leading to the back of the house where her father’s study was. She was nearly to the door when she realized he was talking to someone. No, not talking to, yelling at. She paused for a few seconds, hesitant to bother her father if he was busy and upset. Then, fearing he was already learning about the day’s events and wanting to tell her side, Kerry stepped closer and pushed the slightly ajar door open a little wider to see inside. That’s when it hit her. Her father wasn’t angry. He was afraid. His voice, when he spoke, caused a chill to race down her spine.
“I don’t care what you need. I’ve told you before that I’m not going to continue any longer. If you don’t have enough information, you never will. The risks have gotten too great.”
There was a pause in the conversation. From where she stood, Kerry could see her father shaking his head vehemently, but she couldn’t see his face.
Although his voice sounded firm, she could almost smell his fear.
“No. I’m not going to do this anymore. You people just take and take and take. Haven’t I given enough? Do I have to risk everything I have left just because you need more?”
He paused again.
“I’ll give you a week to work it all out. Then I want us out of here. Do you understand? Seven days. That’s all I can afford.”
***
Kerry was shaking when she came out of the memory. She saw from the look on Cutter’s face that she’d been talking aloud. He probably thought she was a nutcase. But his face didn’t show his disdain. Instead, he looked deep in concentration. Kerry held her breath.
Just when she thought he would never respond, Cutter spoke. “I think it’s obvious your father was working for someone other than the family. The question is who?”
A thought rose in her mind. “I think…”
Cutter moved swiftly, placing a finger over her lips and shaking his head. He stood, without making a sound, and took her hand. Kerry strained to hear what he heard, feeling her heart begin to beat faster and faster, sensing his urgency, sensing his uncertainty.
Cutter pulled her behind the door to his office. It was closed and all the lights were off. The glow from the computer screen was bright against the darkness surrounding them, but it wouldn’t highlight their position to anyone coming through the opening. His tension was palatable. Kerry prayed she wouldn’t do something stupid to alert whoever Cutter was anxious about.
She held her breath, trying to become invisible. Cutter put her behind him and blocked what little view she had of the door and even the office. His body heat enveloped her, and she felt her fear for him rise so much it almost choked the breath from her lungs.
He had protected her before. He would protect her again. At all costs. She hoped she would have the strength to do as much for him. She owed it to him.
She strained to hear any noise, any threat that may be coming after them.
It seemed they stood like statues for hours, but Kerry was certain it was only minutes, perhaps even seconds. Finally, she heard the sound. It wasn’t footsteps. It wasn’t even a true sound. It was more of a sense of motion. Someone was moving down the corridor that divided the offices.
Was it a guard? Would he turn on all the lights? How could they explain their presence in this office after hours?
Cutter moved into position, readying himself to do what? Attack their stalker? Kerry bit her bottom lip. She wanted to cry out to keep him from doing it, but knew any noise, any sound would only distract him. Any noise would give their stalker an advantage they may be unable to overcome. Kerry felt her lungs start to ache as she held her breath against the overwhelming urge to bow to her fear.
The door’s about to open
, she wanted to scream.
Run, Cutter, run.
Instead, Cutter moved like a blur not from, but to. As the door swung open, he pulled their stalker into the cubicle. Quicker than she could blink her eyes, and with a deadly stealth she wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t witnessed the movements herself, he went into action. His weapon, a knife she hadn’t even realized he carried, was pressed against their assailant’s throat. Kerry swallowed as she realized Cutter would kill the man. But unlike with Dom, Kerry knew Cutter would suffer for it later.
“Don’t move,” Cutter rasped, his voice so quiet she wondered if she imagined him saying it. “I can kill you in an instant. By the time anybody finds you, you’ll have bled to death.”
“You’re the boss,” their stalker whispered.
Kerry didn’t recognize the voice. Cutter must have because he relaxed.
“Turn on the light, Kerry.”
She hurried to obey. The man stood stiffly. He was wearing jeans and a black tee. His blond hair was styled in a way that added to his polished look. His feet were shod in expensive athletic shoes. He looked like an ad in a fashion magazine, except for the red mark on his neck where Cutter’s knife had been pressed.
It didn’t make sense, but Kerry felt instant distrust.
“Asshole,” Cutter was speaking harshly, but was still relaxed. “I could’ve killed you. I should have.”
The man raised his hands as if placating Cutter. Kerry saw it as a condescending move.
“Hey, with you pulling the Eraser act, somebody has to stay back here and handle the reams of paperwork your little adventure is creating. Just call me the lucky paper-pusher.”
“Shit,” Cutter swore, but it was mild-mannered. It almost sounded like he was sympathetic for the man doing his job.
“So what’s happening around here?” Cutter asked.
“How the hell would I know? Denver’s got this case locked up tighter than a drum. Hell, except when I talked to you from the mall that day, he’s been keeping everybody locked out. Orders are any contact from you goes straight to him. I don’t even know if he’s letting his bosses see the reports.”
Cutter nodded once. Then, as if realizing he had forgotten about her, he pointed to Kerry. “Kerry this is my partner, Johnson.”
The new marshal nodded once. “Miss.”
It was hard to tell in the eerie fluorescent light of the office, but she thought his eyes were very dark for such a light complexioned man. She edged a little closer to Cutter, whether to protect or be protected she didn’t know. Or care.
“Marshal,” she returned the greeting.
“So what brings you back here?” Johnson asked.
Kerry bit her lip, willing Cutter to understand she did not trust this man.
“I needed to grab a few things. We’re staying under for a little longer.”
“Where you heading?” Johnson asked.
“North,” Cutter replied, surprising Kerry.
“Back to the rez? Buddy, I don’t know if that’s very smart.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that some of my sources say the tribe is all worked up. They have been the last two days or so. I went to Smokin’ Bob’s yesterday. They didn’t run me off at gunpoint, so that’s something. But they also wouldn’t tell me squat either.”
Kerry didn’t like knowing that this marshal had been as close to them as the store Cutter had been going to. In the last twenty-four hours. She edged a little closer to him.
“I didn’t know you had any sources on the reservation,” Cutter said to Johnson.
“Hey, man, you know I’ve been doing some fringe work on the casino case. I’ve been in the business long enough I’ve got sources in a lot of places.”
There was something about this man that made all of Kerry’s nerves jump up and shout. She shuddered a little and tried to concentrate on what wasn’t being said.
“And you know those Indians. Throw a little green or alcohol their way and they’ll spill their beans in a heartbeat.” The man paused. “No offense to the late missus, of course, but hey, most of them don’t think about the long-term. You know that better than most, I’m sure. Maybe when you get teaching you can teach them those kinds of things.”
Kerry was so close to Cutter’s back she could feel his tension radiating from like a beacon. She wondered if Johnson could sense it as well. Then she realized people like Johnson were too self-absorbed to see anything that didn’t directly affect themselves. Too late for her father and herself, she’d realized Dom was that kind of man.
Kerry felt Cutter relax. “Oh, we hear rumors about the Tuscaroras all the time. You know the boss usually takes them with a grain of salt.”
“Yeah, but my sources said these problems are different. Not just the usual bull about the state taking away their rights or keeping them from selling cigarettes and gasoline at a profit.”
Cutter crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you hear anything specific?”
“No, no, you know how the info comes in. It’s always sketchy at first.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get something concrete soon. If I’m still on the job, who knows? Maybe I’ll give a damn.”
Johnson laughed. “Yeah, right. I forgot. This babysitting is your last job.”
Kerry heard the derision in his voice.
“Right. As soon as this
babysitting
is done, so am I. Speaking of being done, we better get out of here.”
Cutter took Kerry’s arm and started to ease out of the office.
“Hey, Cutter,” Johnson’s voice stopped them in their tracks. “I mean it, buddy, take it easy. If you need any help, I’m your man. Just call me. I’ll come anywhere.”
“Thanks.”
Kerry felt Johnson’s eyes on them as they moved out of the dim light of the office into the darkened hallway. She wondered why she kept having this feeling the eyes were raking her like red-hot coals.
***
Midnight
Cutter was quiet as they exited the building with no fanfare or suspense and walked to where he’d parked their car. Kerry didn’t disturb his thoughts. She was busy thinking about her reaction to Johnson. And thanking her lucky stars he hadn’t been the one to rescue her in the mall thirty-eight hours ago.
When they were in the car and on taking the long way for the southern tier via state route 33, she finally spoke. “How long has Johnson been your partner?”
Cutter didn’t answer for so long she was beginning to wonder if he heard her.
“Since I came back from bereavement leave,” he finally replied.
“Oh. Did you know him before? I mean, before you started working with him?”
Cutter turned to her. The sun was starting to lighten the sky. He shifted as if to get in a more comfortable position. She didn’t think, just reached for him, running her hand over his muscular back and shoulders. When he twisted a bit to give her better access, she moved a little closer to him on the bench-style seat of the car. She felt the natural animal heat of him through the shirt. It calmed her like nothing she had known in her life. When she reached into the small indentation his spine made in his hard muscles, her hand touched the spot where his shirt had pulled away from the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers lingered there enjoying the feel of silken skin against rock hard muscles. Those fingers twitched a little, then relaxed when Cutter finally spoke.
“Johnson was transferred to the Buffalo office shortly before Helen…” His voice trailed off.
She moved her hand from his back, feeling as if her touch against his bare skin when he was remembering his wife would be an intrusion. He caught her hand in his and brought it briefly to his mouth, kissing the knuckles.
The feel of his back had warmed her. The feel of his lips on her hand thrilled her. That thrill was tempered by the thought of his wife, of his loss.
“I’m sorry if it brings back bad memories for you,” she said. “I won’t ask any more questions.”