Assignment: Marriage. Jackie Merritt
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?”