Marshall's Law

by Denise A. Agnew

  Dana reached for her friend’s arm. “Excuse us a moment, everybody. Can I speak with you in private, Kerrie?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Dana tugged her friend toward a refreshment alcove where a humming soda machine stood.

  “Dana, what is it?”

  “Do this for me, will you? Go to Jamaica and enjoy yourself as best you can. You say you won’t like it there if you’re worrying about me. Well it’s the same here. I can’t get to the bottom of this if I’m concerned about you.”

  Tilting her head slightly to the side, Kerrie assessed Dana. “You’re worried about something else, too. What is it?”

  “What I’m saying is that I have to go with my gut in this situation. A lot of my life I’ve spent going by logic rather than instincts.” She gave a sarcastic laugh. “I think that’s what created my writer’s block. Too much logic, too much trying to go by what is reasonable and has always worked before. You remember when I said I wanted to add romance to my horror novels, something that isn’t done often?”

  “Yes.”

  Dana rubbed her cold hands together. “I’ve spent a good portion of my life hiding from adventures. Hiding from things that are different…from ideas that would change my life in ways I’ve never dreamed. It’s like this whole trip is designed to show me the error of my ways. As if someone is trying to tell me to bust loose and explore. At the same time there’s danger involved.”

  Kerrie’s eyes widened in comprehension and maybe discomfort. “Some sort of weird synchronicity?”

  “I can’t prove it. Logic can’t answer it. But I can feel it. There are a few lessons to learn, and I’m tired of fighting against the grain of what I’m supposed to do with my life.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Open myself to every possibility from now on…if my instincts tell me it’s the right thing to do. I can balance the logic with the intuition and stay in the middle. I can go whatever way I’m supposed to go.”

  Kerrie nodded. “Get out of your own way.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But it isn’t logical to apply the same thing to your life being in danger, Dana.” Kerrie’s eyes filled with tears, and Dana almost hugged her right then. “Your creativity, yes. But not your life.”

  Frustration made Dana’s voice sharpen. “What would you have me do? Run to Jamaica with you? I’m through with hiding. Whoever these bastards are that want to ruin lives…well I’m going to confront them now before anyone else gets hurt.”

  “Dana,” Kerrie said. “This is insane. You’ve got Marshall and Logan to protect you. Don’t go off and do something rash. It’ll get you killed.”

  Dana could see her friend didn’t quite get it all; this surprised Dana a tad. Kerrie had always caught on to her more esoteric ramblings. Maybe stress had made Kerrie’s mind feel like Dana’s. Mush city. “All these adventures have been unfortunate, but they’ve opened my creative mind to new possibilities. I just realized that even with all the crap hitting the fan the last few days, I’ve started thinking up all sorts of new scenarios for my next book.”

  Kerrie’s sincere expression of disbelief changed into anger when she said, “That’s a pretty stupid way to get rid of writer’s block, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s a crock. This isn’t some arcane billboard sign in the sky telling you to let your creative juices rip. A creep is running around out there apparently trying to destroy your family.” Kerrie’s pale skin turned pink with indignation. “And I think it’s pretty nasty of you to think of this as opportunity to write a book.” Holding her hands up as Dana started to interrupt, Kerrie continued. “If that’s the way you want it…if you want to take advantage of all the pain going on here, so be it. I’ll take that plane to Jamaica tomorrow and I won’t look back.”

  Stunned, Dana watched as her best friend stomped back to Eric and whispered something in his ear. Eric’s concerned frown turned deeper as he looked at Marshall and shrugged. He said something Dana couldn’t hear, then looping his arm around Kerrie’s waist, they came back in her direction. Maybe if she explained more, Kerrie would get the drift. Kerrie sent her a quelling glare as they went by her. Eric shrugged and gave Dana a bewildered look as he passed. Within seconds they’d left with the swish of the automatic doors closing behind them.

  Nothing could have prepared Dana for the stark, unrelenting sadness slamming through her body. Did she even understand what she’d tried to say? Maybe I do know what I mean and maybe Kerrie plain doesn’t like what I have to say.

  Marshall and Aunt Lucille came her way while Logan headed toward parts unknown.

  “What was that all about?” Marshall asked.

  Dana sighed, feeling deep dejection. “I think she’s thoroughly incensed. I want her to go to Jamaica…I guess what I said did the trick.”

  Looking heavenward as if for guidance, Marshall groaned. “Great. Just great.”

  Aunt Lucille gave him a quashing glance. He immediately looked contrite. Marveling at how her aunt could make this big guy melt like sour cream and butter on a baked potato, Dana vowed to ask her later how she did it.

  “Tension is high right now.” She patted Dana’s shoulder. “Kerrie will be out of danger if she has nothing to do with Dana or I.”

  “Divide and conquer. As long as we scatter, maybe whoever is messing with us will make a mistake. Then we can kick their butts,” Dana said.

  Marshall folded his arms. “I hate to say it, but your plan almost makes sense.”

  “Almost?” Dana lifted a doubting eyebrow.

  “There’s a flaw. We still don’t know the motivations of the culprit and we don’t know how many people are involved. That leaves us pretty vulnerable. We appear to be at the mercy of some pretty sick puppies.”

  She agreed with silence for about a half minute. “We’re not at anyone’s mercy. I’m surprised you think that.”

  He shook his head, another disconcerted expression crossing his face. “You know what I mean.”

  “You should go now, my dear,” Aunt Lucille said, warming her with another hug. “Go with Marshall and be safe.”

  Worry nudged Dana like an annoying elbow. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine here.”

  Soon Dana and Marshall piled into his car and headed on their way. They climbed into the mountains, going back the way she’d come that first day when a tornado had pitched her into Marshall’s arms and his life. Daylight streamed through the tall trees, sparkling on the car hood. Grateful for her sunglasses, she plopped them on her nose and tried to relax. She hoped the ride would soon be over. She wanted to try out that tub, with or without Marshall.

  Quiet continued to surround them as dim light played against her face through the side window. As the car ate up miles, she decided she had to speak first. Her mouth started to open.

  “Tell me what you said to Kerrie to hack her off,” Marshall said.

  She shrugged and explained what she could. When he kept the cranky face she asked, “Have I made you mad too, or do you understand what I’m saying?”

  He slid his hands over the wheel from ten o’clock and two o’clock to the nine and three position. Then his hands moved back to ten and two. She recalled the feeling of those hands on her body. On her naked breast. She wanted more. So much more.

  She swallowed hard. “Marshall?”

  At his spearing glance she caught her breath. Marshall’s brand of intensity gave no mercy. She wondered if she’d managed to piss off the entire world.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Dana,” he said with a rough edge to his voice.

  The tense line of his mouth gave away the facts. “You’re a poor liar, Brennan Marshall.”

  His head snapped around and he glared. Then he pinned his gaze back on the road as he made a left turn that sent her swaying against the door.

  He cursed—one word strong enough to convey his feelings. “So are you. You try so damned hard not to show what you feel. But it won’t work. I know you well
enough. You forget that I’m a cop and my instincts into human behavior aren’t exactly shabby.”

  She made a noise of derision. “Yeah, right. If you understood me so well you’d know what you said applies to you equally well.”

  She realized seconds too late that she’d better shut her trap or she’d give away those feelings he claimed he could read. He couldn’t know that he’d turned her world into a spiraling confusion of no return.

  They continued for several miles until he turned next to a large black mailbox printed with his name and address. The long driveway twisted and turned, perhaps designed to hide the house from prying eyes.

  When Dana caught site of the log cabin home at the top of the drive, she whistled.

  “Hot doggie.”

  She felt Marshall’s stare and when he said nothing and continued to drive down the dirt driveway, she turned to watch his hard profile.

  “Really. It’s beautiful,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  A rough, reluctant acknowledgment, but an acknowledgment nonetheless. She tried to see imperfections in the structure, but as the cathedral windows at the front loomed in front of her, Dana saw a rustic beauty. No doubt about it, Marshall owned a nice home.

  Marshall parked in front of the detached garage. “Okay, pile out.”

  Without warning Dana’s nerves went into overdrive. She remembered she hadn’t come here to play house with the man who’d sent lust and passion ramming into her life. Someone wanted her dead, and someone had tried to kill Gregory and Neal. Shivering with an immediate and overwhelming fear, she flinched when Marshall touched her arm.

  “What is it?” Soft and gentle, his voice worked at returning her calm.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you with me here. Nothing and no one is going to get through me.”

  His strong statement told her his feelings for her went deep enough that he’d put his life on the line, and that meant a lot to her.

  He reached up and cupped her face. His thumb brushed her cheek. Sparks of sweet relief started to spill through her veins and warmth began to thaw the ice that had frozen her sensations.

  “Come on.” He opened his door. “Let’s get inside.”

  Like a good little soldier she did as told, reaching into the back seat for her overnight suitcase. Once on the porch she felt an excitement to see the inside of his abode. She wondered, with a wild flush and a thundering heart, if they could make the kind of impassioned love the ghosts had attempted over and over but never finished.

  Maybe that’s what hell is. Having sex and never being able to finish. She almost laughed. She’d brought the tape recording of the ghosts’ fun; she hadn’t listened to it yet.

  A wicked grin curved her lips. If she had anything to say about it, unlike the ghosts, their lovemaking would equal a meltdown larger than Chernobyl.

  He fumbled with his keys and she looked up at the sky. “What? No tornadoes?”

  Her gaze caught Marshall’s, and he seemed to lose all movement. He stared and stared, his lips parting and his pupils dilating. Holy macadamia nuts. The key ring slipped from his fingers and clanked onto the porch.

  Dana crossed her arms. “Don’t tell me we have to kick the door down.”

  He reached for the keys and when he came up, he smiled and uttered a low curse. “You’re a barrel of laughs, Dana.”

  She decided not to be offended.

  Once inside the cabin he took her coat and overnight bag and headed down a long hallway, leaving her standing in the middle of a living room with vaulted ceilings. The expanse of hardwood flooring seemed to cover all the bases. Living room, dining room, and, tucked in a large niche, the kitchen. She’d never been one for totally open homes. Dana always thought she’d feel exposed living in one. As she turned around, gazing at the Old West paintings gracing some of the walls, she thought maybe her attitude had changed. At least here she felt secure, her fear from earlier easing away in the cozy feeling this living space provided. Then again, perhaps this house didn’t provide the safe feeling, but the man who lived here did.

  With subdued western flavor, the room looked warm and homey in a way she wouldn’t have expected. With big windows unencumbered by coverings, she saw the pine forest and mountains with crystal clarity.

  His taste in furniture ran to dark burgundy leather, with a large couch and loveseat centered on a huge rug before a brick fireplace of cave-sized proportions. Loveseat and couch both sported a large Indian blanket draped over the back of each of them. Once again her imagination took flight. She saw a blazing fire in the hearth. She’d be curled up on the couch, covered in a warm Indian blanket…naked…his arms around her—

  “Like the view?”

  Dana jumped. She turned toward Marshall, a ready admonition on her lips. Instead, she stopped and gazed at his somewhat mussed hair and the extra growth of beard on his face.

  “Very much. Don’t you feel a bit…exposed with all these uncovered windows?” she asked.

  “No.” He advanced on her, and again she knew a forbidden thrill as he stalked her until she’d bumped into the back of the couch. “Besides, there are curtains in the bedroom…” His gaze lingered on her mouth, then slid downward. “Where it matters most.”

  His innuendo put the last nail in her coffin. Heat spiraled upward until it centered deep in her stomach and flared. She knew real desire when she felt it, and she’d tried to ignore this man for far too long. “It really is a wonderful place.”

  He smiled and seemed to draw back a little, as if sensing she would explode…that he would combust if he came any closer. “Thanks.”

  Yeah, she’d noticed that although life had turned rough in the long hours, he’d done a lot more grinning than he used to.

  Moving away, he gestured toward for her to follow him. “I’ll show you the guest room and you can get some sleep.”

  As she tagged behind him, she said, “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”

  He gave a male grunt. “It’s okay. You can put your mind at ease. This cabin may look unsophisticated in some ways, but it’s got a full security system. We are as safe as anywhere.”

  He opened a set of rustic double doors and led her into a sizable bedroom. She stopped and gaped.

  She wouldn’t have expected anything like this room in a house inhabited by Marshall. A large four-poster bed in Queen Anne style graced the center of the room and held her overnight case. Covered with a pale blue and pink comforter, the bed looked like something that belonged in The Princess and the Pea. Matching curtains covered the two large windows on the far side of the room, sheers letting in enough light to warm the room, but not enough to give a clear view to anyone outside. The furniture, a small chair in one corner, a potted plant, a vanity…all of it said female touch. French flavor with white wood and gold highlights had never appealed to her personal style, yet this room held a beauty that couldn’t be ignored. And it screams woman.

  In the center of the wall, away from the bed, a huge brick fireplace rested.

  She turned around and observed the sumptuous room one more time. “Wow.”

  “You’ve said that a lot lately.”

  “It’s so cozy.” She couldn’t imagine this room being his idea. It didn’t go with his rough and tough attitude. “Feminine.”

  “Surprised?”

  “Frankly, yes.” She wondered if the question she wanted to ask would be received well. “Did a woman help you design it? I mean, there aren’t too many guys in love with pastels. Not exactly manly man stuff.”

  Her teasing must have come through as a smile tried to overtake his mouth. “Jealous?”

  “Of your decorating abilities? Nope. I’ve got my place just the way I want it.”

  “No. I mean…are you jealous because a woman helped me decorate?” He said it with nonchalance.

  It stung deep to realize how close to the mark he’d come. “Oh, really, Marshall.”

  He went to the dresser
and retrieved an eight by ten pewter framed photograph and handed it to her. “She’s the one who helped me decorate this entire house.”

  The lady in the photo had a sweet countenance, youthful and wise at the same time. She had a cloud of short brown hair, rich and thick, and her green eyes held a spark that added to her warm smile. She looked about fifty-five or sixty. Her mind raced around the idea that Marshall had an older girlfriend. Then she recalled the conversation they’d shared at Aunt Lucille’s last night. No way this woman could be his squeeze.

  Before she could ask he took the photo and placed it back on the dresser. “It’s my mom. My parents live in Casper.”

  Relief flowed through Dana. It’s his mother. Good. Why the idea pleased her was easy to define. She didn’t want another woman having a claim on him.

  “Speechless, Dana?”

  “For once.” She’d admit it. Her feelings for him had gone way beyond casual and far over simple lust.

  “Mom’s an interior designer, and Dad’s an architect. He helped me put together a perfect plan for this house.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  He tucked his thumbs into his belt loops. “Nope. My little sister Teresa is thirty and married and lives in Casper. My little brother is in the Army—he lives everywhere. Moves around a lot.” He turned away, looking a tad uncomfortable. “Look, there are towels in the bathroom, so you can take a shower if you like.”

  “I’d rather try that tub you were talking about.” The words escaped without thought. “I’ve been dreaming about it the whole way here.”

  She saw his Adam’s apple go up and down. “Is that all you’ve been dreaming about?”

  “I’m wishing this whole murder and mayhem thing were over.”

  “There hasn’t been a murder yet.”

  She paused, watching Marshall once again come within close proximity. “Gregory is a bastard, but Neal doesn’t deserve this.”

  “Maybe he knew something or saw something he shouldn’t have.”

  She shivered at the idea that someone stalked them. She knew what it felt like now to be pursued without knowing about it. “I don’t even want to think about it. Now what about that whirlpool tub?”