Strategically Wed Read online

  “As good as it’s going to get.”

  As Maggie dealt the first couple of hands, they didn’t indulge in any chitchat.

  The game was simple and easy to follow. Perhaps too easy, since Griff had plenty of time to watch the deft movement of Maggie’s hands as she shuffled. Her fingers were strong, capable and utterly feminine. Just like the rest of her. Her just-out-of-bed mussed hair provided fertile ingredients to the fantasies he’d been weaving before she’d interrupted his musings.

  When she drew a card from the discard pile and laid down a trio of tens, he thought of how it would feel to have those fingers raking his back in passion.

  He’d never realized playing cards could be so erotic.

  “Your turn,” she said.

  Their third game ended two plays later.

  “Do you want something to drink?” she asked.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “I make a mean hot root beer toddy. Can I tempt you?”

  Oh, yeah. She tempted him all right. But he knew that she wasn’t offering the kind of relief he desperately needed. Forcing his illicit thoughts to the back of his head, he said, “Make it a double.”

  “Whip cream or root beer?”

  “Both.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Griff attempted to move his leg to a more comfortable position as Maggie opened the refrigerator.

  “How’s your leg feeling?” she asked.

  “About the way I expected.”

  “That sofa bed can’t be too comfortable.”

  “Are you volunteering to share yours?”

  She stiffened and stopped pouring the root beer into a glass cup. Turning her head, she met his gaze. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, do you?”

  He sighed. “Sorry. I think this heat has gone to my brain.”

  She went back to her preparations. A minute later she set a steaming mug, topped with white foam, in front of him before putting one in front of her.

  He took a sip. “Not bad.”

  “Wylie used to make these for me.”

  Griff watched Maggie lick the cream from her cup. Desire sliced through his gut. He gripped the mug in his hands and wondered how he was going to make it through the next night, and all the ones after that, and still keep his sanity. Making love to Maggie was becoming a dangerously obsessive thought.

  “Do you want to play another round?” Maggie said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  What he wanted he couldn’t have.

  She pushed back her chair. Before he could stop her, she touched the tense muscle in his uninjured leg and began to massage it.

  “What are you—”

  “Just sit back and relax,” she said.

  Relaxation was an impossibility. His leg muscle responded instantly to the caress of her fingers.

  And so did his manhood.

  Griff nearly groaned out loud. “Maggie—”

  “You’re so tense. It’s no wonder you can’t sleep.” She rotated her body so she could exert more pressure on his sore limb.

  “Maggie.” His voice sounded hoarse and unfamiliar.

  She didn’t seem to notice his sudden tension. “My friends said I should become a masseuse. I seem to have a natural ability to detect the pressure points that need be unlocked. You should feel better in a few minutes.”

  “Maggie, stop!” He all but shouted.

  She lifted her hands and stared at him with wide eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

  His gaze held hers. “That isn’t the body part that’s causing me the most trouble.”

  He lowered his gaze to his lap. When he glanced up again, he saw her eyes widen at his erection.

  She swallowed and stepped carefully away from him. The refrigerator stopped her retreat.

  “I guess the massage didn’t work.”

  “It depends what muscle you were trying to assuage.”

  She jerkily reached for the deck of cards. “Do you want to play another hand of rummy?”

  “Not unless you intend it to be foreplay.”

  The cards slipped from her hands and dropped to the floor.

  Electrical awareness arced between them. Maggie didn’t seem to breathe. The color faded from her cheeks.

  “Maggie, go to bed,” Griff ordered.

  When had he started calling her Maggie instead of Bennington?

  Why did it matter?

  She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “I need to pick up the cards.”

  “Now, Maggie. Go now.”

  She paused only a half a second before she fled the room.

  Griff exhaled slowly. It had been close. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted a woman this much in his entire life. The scent of Maggie still lingered in his head.

  If it was just about sex, maybe he’d have seduced her.

  Maggie was a normal woman with normal needs surely. They could both scratch the itch that making love would relieve.

  Yet, Griff’s lust was tied up with images that weren’t so lustful. Maggie fussing over her sewing. Wading into the water to free her fishing line. Shuffling the deck of cards. Propping his leg on a pillow. Nursing his tense tired muscle. God, he wanted something more than sex. She’d become far more hazardous to his health than the guy who’d fired a bullet into his leg.

  Maggie Bennington was BJ’s daughter. One didn’t seduce a partner’s daughter.

  Griff had no business thinking what he was thinking.

  That was the litany he repeated over and over the rest of the night.

  Chapter 9

  A gentle rain fell during the night but failed to dispel the unnatural heat and humidity. By the next morning the slick vegetation glistened with moisture, causing the mosquitoes to come out and feast.

  Maggie considered trying her hand at fishing again, but the biting insects drove her back inside the cabin.

  Griff’s temper hadn’t improved during the interim, either.

  “Are you going to drag that damn sewing machine out again?”

  She considered ignoring his crankiness. “You want to play cards?”

  “For money or something more interesting?”

  She refused to be baited. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  Turning her back on him, she pulled her dress fabric and a spool of thread from the box and began to work.

  Griff maneuvered his way to the end of the couch and turned on the radio. He flipped through a variety of music stations before settling for a sports talk radio.

  That lasted all of ten minutes. He raced through a host of programs, listening to one for a few minutes before moving to something else. The noise began to wear on Maggie’s nerves. She had to bite her lip to keep from snapping at him to turn the radio off.

  She realized that Griff didn’t have as many choices as she did. Pursing her lips together, she did her best to block out the sound.

  After thirty minutes of no talk and plenty of static, Maggie pushed aside the dress she’d hemmed.

  “I’m going to drive into town to buy some mosquito spray and pick up a few other items.”

  Griff frowned. “That might not be a good idea.”

  “No one knows we’re here. And if someone is looking for us, they’d assume we headed to Chicago or the Cities.” He didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll wear a stocking cap to cover my hair. I can’t stay in this cabin another minute.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Maggie wanted to protest but knew it was best if they stuck together.

  Twenty minutes later they were en route to Jonas Falls.

  Griff brought along his cell phone, and on the outskirts of town, his roam signal beamed on.

  Maggie parked her station wagon in front of the small grocery store. “You coming in with me?”

  Griff shook his head. “I’ll try to raise Wylie on the phone.”

  Before he could place his call, the phone rang.

  He flipped open the compact device. “Hello?”

  Maggi
e started to open the car door but paused when Griff held up his hand to stop her.

  “Hello?” he repeated.

  “Who is it?”

  He shook his head and spoke into the phone again.

  Finally he shut the phone.

  “No one there?” she asked.

  “There was someone on the other end. I could hear him breathing.”

  The phone trilled again. Griff waited a few seconds before speaking into the mouthpiece.

  His expression became grimmer as he failed to raise a response from the person on the other end.

  After he ended the connection, Maggie reached into the back and grabbed the Green Bay Packers stocking cap sitting behind her seat. She clamped it on her head. “How do I look?”

  “Ready to tailgate.”

  “Good.”

  The phone rang again. This time they both ignored it. “Be quick in there,” Griff said.

  She nodded and lifted the door latch.

  Inside the store, she found the few items she needed.

  The twenty-something salesclerk had a phone propped to her ear while she rang up Maggie’s items and chewed gum at the same time.

  The trip inside the store lasted less than three minutes.

  When Maggie returned to the car, she heard Griff talking on his phone. “When are you arriving here?” he asked the person on the other end.

  He paused for a response, before saying, “Take the back roads. We’ve had a couple of ‘out of area’ phone calls. It might be a wrong number, or someone might be trying to track us down.”

  “Wylie?” Maggie mouthed to Griff.

  He nodded before responding to the police sergeant. “Don’t forget to bring those case files.”

  The call ended seconds later.

  Maggie turned on the ignition. “When is Wylie planning to arrive?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Has he learned anything?”

  “No.”

  Much to Griff’s relief, Wylie walked through the door shortly after eleven o’clock. He carried in a couple bags of groceries, and the large box of old case files Griff had requested.

  Maggie had spent most of the evening down at the dock casting her fishing line. Griff hadn’t bothered to join her. He sat at a small picnic table perched halfway between the lake and the cabin where he could keep her in sight.

  They were getting on each other’s nerves and desperately needed a respite.

  After Wylie unloaded his gifts, he joined Maggie at the table.

  He eyed her strained features and Griff’s whiskered face. Griff hadn’t asked her to help him shave that morning and she didn’t volunteer.

  “You two look like you haven’t slept since you got here,” the older man observed.

  “Can you contact the doctor and see about my getting out of the monkey harness?”

  Wylie nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “What kind of leads are you following?” Maggie asked.

  Wylie stood up and walked to the refrigerator. He grabbed a soda and drank half of it before reclaiming his place near Maggie. “The thieves had a storage locker at the bus depot. Myers and Karns went through and found quite a stash of goods. Most of them were items that had been reported missing from several large weddings. They also had a cache of credit cards.”

  “Any guns or ammunition?” Griff asked. He’d decided to stay on the couch. Despite Wylie’s presence, he was conscious of Maggie’s every move. The old flannel shirt and sweatpants she wore should have been a turnoff. For some reason, his body wasn’t receiving that message. In his opinion, she looked damn near good enough to eat.

  Wylie threw his empty can in the recyclable bin. “No guns. No bullets. We’ve checked and rechecked the reports on the other wedding heists. No one reported seeing or hearing guns being fired.”

  “You don’t think the thieves were behind the shooting.”

  Wylie shook his head. “Anything is possible, but I don’t know why someone would shoot you after we had their comrades in handcuffs. They didn’t take a shot at the arresting officers. Why one of you? He had nothing to gain.”

  “What else do we have?”

  “I’ve been following up on your recent arrests. So far everyone has alibis.”

  “What about the Williams brothers?”

  “They’re both in lock-up. They were hauled in for a barroom brawl three weeks ago, and the judge revoked their parole. They’ll be eating state food for the next two years at a minimum.”

  The Williams brothers were at the top of Griff’s list of possible suspects. He had reviewed all his cases over the past week. He’d had several people threaten him throughout the course of his career. But most of them had been drunk and probably didn’t even remember his name.

  “Maggie, have you heard from Dwight Conrad recently?”

  Wylie’s unexpected question brought Griff’s head up.

  Maggie turned away but not before he witnessed the tight freezing in her expression.

  What did Dwight Conrad have to do with Maggie?

  The former Pendleton officer had abruptly handed in his resignation from the department about the same time as Maggie.

  “I don’t know where he is. And I don’t care to know where he is,” Maggie said. “Why?”

  “He checked out of a drug rehab center, and no one has seen him since.”

  “What has he got to do with this?” Griff asked tersely.

  “Nothing,” came Maggie’s short response.

  Griff caught the warning look she flashed Wylie. Whatever relationship Conrad had with her, she didn’t want shared.

  Wylie’s expression was troubled, but he didn’t offer any insights into why the former officer was a possible suspect.

  Conrad had never been one of Griff’s favorite people. He’d joined the department shortly after Griff. But while Griff had earned his stripes, Conrad had tried to take shortcuts. In the end, he lost whatever ground he tried to gain. He wasn’t known to be a team player, and few in the department liked him as a partner.

  “His drug rehab was court-ordered?” Griff asked.

  “Yeah.” Wylie grimaced.

  No other information was forthcoming from either Maggie or Wylie. Griff was left to re-cap his own few memories of Conrad’s departure, and realized he had little to none. BJ had been as closemouthed about Conrad’s resignation as he had about Maggie’s.

  What had Maggie’s sudden leaving had to do with Conrad? Or vice versa?

  For the second time in the past few days, Griff questioned the events of three years ago. Why had Maggie really left?

  Why hadn’t BJ tried to stop her?

  And how did Conrad fit into the picture? There didn’t seem to be any common thread that Griff could detect.

  From Maggie’s militantly closed expression, Griff knew he wasn’t going to find any easy answers.

  Wylie stayed another hour. Before he left, Maggie excused herself and escaped behind the bedroom door.

  Wylie turned to Griff before he stepped into the night. “How are you two getting along?”

  “We’ve locked up the ammunition.”

  The older man seemed to have something on his mind. “Don’t be too hard on her. She didn’t have to agree to this.”

  There was little Griff could say.

  Wylie started to turn away and then stopped. “By the way, your landlady has called a couple of times requesting a forwarding address for your mail.”

  “Why doesn’t she just drop it at the department?”

  Wylie rolled his eyes. “She claims she doesn’t want to be responsible if we lose it.”

  Griff chuckled. “Just tell her to hold on to it and I’ll collect it later.”

  Wylie saluted and headed into the night.

  He watched the rear lights of his police sergeant’s car until they faded into the night.

  Inside, the door between him and Maggie was a formidable barrier. He hobbled back toward his lonely bed.

  By all indicati
ons, it was going to be another long night. He doubted if Maggie would come out and play gin rummy with him.

  A crashing thunderstorm shook the tiny house two hours later. A blinding flash of lightning lit up the entire cabin before a cupboard-rattling boom.

  Suddenly the electricity went off. Except for the illuminated digital numbers from the clock near the sofa bed, the only light that had been on was a small night-light located in the kitchen. The room pitched into total darkness.

  Griff groped for his crutch before finding his footing. He remembered seeing a flashlight in the drawer next to the sink.

  He began to inch across the room as another boom of thunder erupted.

  Just then the bedroom door flew open and before he could brace himself, Maggie ran full barrel into his chest.

  The force of her body caught him off-guard. His crutch crashed to the floor as his arms came around her. The momentum carried them both into the couch.

  Before he could catch his breath, Maggie was pounding against his chest. “Get off me!” she yelled.

  “Whoa! You’re the one who ran into me.”

  She didn’t seem to hear him. Her body twisted. Her knee just missed a strategic part of his body.

  “Maggie.”

  “Get off. I said get off.” She sounded hysterical.

  He grabbed her arms and held her still. “Maggie, just hold on. Give me a second, and I’ll get my balance.”

  She was amazingly strong.

  The lights flickered. He saw her wide-eyed terror in the split second before they went out again. Even though the electricity had only resumed for a brief moment, it was enough for Maggie to see his face. She went still beneath him.

  Not taking any chances, he levered his body off hers and stood up.

  Breathing heavily, he said. “Stay there. I know where the flashlights and candles are.”

  She didn’t answer him. The ragged edges of her breathing were tinged with a slight whimper. He couldn’t quite match the woman who’d been his mainstay in the ambulance and had waded into unfamiliar water with the terrified one who was determined to be victorious over her fears.

  He had to raise his voice to be heard over the raging storm. Yet he tried to make it soothing and monotone.