Strategically Wed Read online

  Jessica refused to look Maggie in the eye as she turned and stalked across the room.

  As soon as Jessica was safely out of hearing range, Wylie lowered his voice and said, “I’m sorry if we got you in a tangle with your family, Maggie.”

  A wave of fatigue crashed over Maggie. “It’s no more than I expected.” There was no reason to point out this wasn’t the first time she’d disappointed a member of her family. No doubt it wouldn’t be the last. That realization made her even more tired.

  “Of course if you want to put a smile on her face, there’s nothing to stop you two from signing that marriage license the preacher is totin’ around.”

  “Being part of one sting today is all I can handle,” Maggie responded dryly.

  Wylie loosened his tie with a wry glance at Griff. “Ouch. I think you’ve been stung, Griff. You need to work on your technique with women.”

  Griff appeared to take this under consideration. “Maybe Maggie could give me pointers.”

  “I don’t have the patience or energy,” Maggie said coolly. “Besides, that isn’t part of the job I was hired for.”

  Griff grimaced. “I guess I’ll be spending my wedding night alone.”

  Maggie knew he was kidding, but she couldn’t stop a quiver rushing through her as she thought about what it would be like to actually be Griff’s bride.

  Wylie stuffed his tie into his pocket. “If I can’t twist your arms any longer, I’d better get down to the station and put this case to bed.”

  After he left, Griff pulled his keys from his pocket and eyed Maggie. “Do you want a ride or would you prefer hiking a mile home in those high-heeled shoes?”

  Her feet refused to be martyrs for the sake of avoiding any more contact with Griff. Besides, now that the case was over, she could afford to be magnanimous. With luck, she’d never have to see him again. She could get back to her life. “Where’s your car?”

  “Out front. We’ll need to go upstairs and pick up whatever the thieves didn’t take. Wylie said they left our stuff sitting in the front pews.” As he reached over and opened the basement door for her, Maggie caught a whiff of his male scent. Her stomach clenched.

  Breathe, Maggie, she ordered herself. She was almost out of this.

  Without replying, Maggie led the way up the steps, all too conscious of Griff being just a step or two behind her.

  They found most of their items still there.

  Sifting through her bag, Maggie discovered the wallet she’d placed inside her purse gone. It was an old wallet she didn’t use anymore, and she’d left a couple of dollars plus an expired credit card inside as bait. Grabbing her hangers and the clothes she’d worn to the church, she waited while Griff hefted a duffel bag that was sitting at the end of the pew.

  With his back to her, she noticed how well the tux fit his body. The crisp black pants and the tailored jacket molded to his athletic body. She wondered how many female cops had wished they’d been the ones walking down the aisle with him, even for a phony ceremony. His sense of duty and unwavering commitment to the job could make an innocent woman believe he would be a devoted lover or spouse. What they didn’t know was that devotion belonged to the job. No woman could ever compete.

  Griff caught her watching him. “See something you like?”

  She’d been around cops too many years to be embarrassed by blunt talk. “I need to get home and pack.”

  He twirled the key chain around his index finger, making no move toward the door. “Why did you agree to come back to the department and take this job?”

  “For Wylie. He asked me to come back and work for the department. I could afford to postpone my plans for a few months, and I said yes.” She rubbed the stiffness from her neck, rolling her shoulders in order to ease the tension that had been sitting there the entire afternoon.

  “That’s it?” A cynical twist lifted the edge of his mouth. “If memory serves me, your father asked you not to leave Pendleton but you did anyway.”

  Maggie froze. “Is that what you think?”

  “After you left Pendleton, something in your dad died. He changed. He had no life.”

  She straightened as if slapped. “My father knew exactly why I left Pendleton and the department.”

  “You’re a coward, Maggie. You ran.”

  She tried to pull off the veil atop her head but the pins refused to yield. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?”

  She lowered her hands from her head and clenched her fingers to keep from going at Griff’s throat. “Did you ever stop to think that my father arranged for me to leave the department? That my very presence made him uncomfortable?”

  Griff stood still. She could see him searching her face to see if she was telling the truth.

  “You don’t believe me?” she asked with mocking coldness. “Ask Wylie who handed in my resignation. They both wanted me to leave. Dad even arranged for me to get the deputy’s job in Somerstown.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Her fingers coiled into a fist. “You might have been an authority on my father, but you don’t know me, Murdock. You never did, and you never will. Now, if you’re finished with your interrogation, I’d like a ride home. If you can’t, I’ll find someone else who will.”

  Griff had been a thorn in her side for too long. He’d been her father’s partner, best friend and surrogate son. So much of her youthful energy had been devoted to seeking what Griff had been given freely. How many of her actions had been determined by his unwelcome presence in her life?

  For the first time in her life, she was destined to be free from the ghosts of the past. Her father was forever gone. And Griff Murdock had no power or place in her future. She intended to make sure of that.

  For a moment Griff didn’t move.

  She saw his gaze slice to her mouth and linger there. She braced herself. It was all she could do not to moisten her lips with the tip of her tongue. She tried to swallow and discovered her throat too dry for the effort. She wondered if her feet were up to the walk home. Blisters might be well worth the price of escaping Griff’s company.

  He finally broke the silence between them. “Let’s go.”

  Relief beckoned. Making an effort to dispel the tension still holding her backbone hostage, Maggie managed to walk past him without touching so much as a hair on the back of his hand. The only sound between them was the whoosh of her dress, as it swirled around her legs and brushed the carpet.

  They moved down the long church aisle, together this time. A fitting ending for the wedding. Only she wasn’t a blushing bride eager to start married life with the man at her side.

  Griff stepped in front of her as they came through the foyer. He swung open the big door, maneuvering so she could get by him. After the somber dimness of the church, the blinding glow of the sinking autumn sun caught her full in the face. Unable to see the steps in front of her, she stopped, trying to get her orientation. Suddenly the wind caught hold of her veil. She jerked back to catch it.

  Griff nearly bumped into her. “What the heck—”

  Ping!

  At first the sound didn’t make sense as she snagged the veil and tried to hold it close to her. Then Griff yelled, “Get down!”

  Ping!

  A cry tore from her lips as Griff’s body hit hers. She tumbled to the ground under his weight. “Get off me!” she yelled. Jumping her twice in one day was more than she could stand.

  “Someone’s shooting at us. Roll. Now!” he ordered with the snap of a drill sergeant.

  Griff’s arms locked around her body, and they rolled back through the open doorway. She clung to his shoulders, her purse caught between them.

  As soon as they cleared the door frame, Griff struggled to his feet and slammed the door shut. Clumsily, staggering over the weight and bulk of the dress, Maggie found her own balance.

  Grabbing her purse, she started to reach for her gun, and then stopped. Her hand
felt damp.

  She looked down.

  Blood covered her hand, her dress and the floor.

  Chilled horror tore through her like an Arctic blast. Oh my lord! “What—”

  “Damn.” Griff’s hoarse curse was the only warning she had.

  She turned just in time to see big, sturdy Griff Murdock collapse at her feet.

  Chapter 3

  “Hate hospitals.”

  Maggie barely heard Griff’s words amid the urgent, strident instructions being exchanged between the paramedics and the hospital staff as they pushed his stretcher through the doors of the emergency room.

  A woman in a white coat rushed forward to meet them. “Take him into the trauma room,” she commanded as they moved down the hall. She was petite, but there was nothing small about her cool professionalism. Everyone marched to her tune with each order she snapped.

  The all-too-familiar smells and noises assaulted Maggie’s senses, and she found her footsteps slowing. Just being here made the hairs on her arms stand up straight. An age old sense of hopelessness reappeared as the antiseptic odor assaulted her nostrils. She hadn’t been in a hospital since her father’s death a year ago, and she had to struggle to contain a surge of nausea. This wasn’t the same hospital where her father had spent the last day of his life, but it had the same look and feel.

  Another set of doors loomed ahead. She tried to release Griff’s hand, but he wouldn’t allow her. Despite his pallor and silence, his grip remained strong.

  “No drugs.” His voice had lowered to a labored hoarseness.

  She squeezed his fingers. “Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

  Wylie arrived at Griff’s side. “Hang in there, man.”

  “Did you get the shooter?” Griff rasped.

  His face engraved with deep-set worry, the older man gripped Griff’s shoulder reassuringly. “Not yet, but we will.” Someone would pay—and would pay dearly. Wylie and everyone else in the department wouldn’t let a crime against one of their own go unpunished.

  They reached a pair of swinging doors.

  A sturdily built, middle-aged woman blocked them, forcing Maggie to relinquish Griff’s hand. “You can’t come in here.”

  Wylie used his impressive height to try to intimidate the nurse. “The hell we can’t. We’re police officers.”

  The woman, whose name badge read Alice Miller, RN, refused to budge. “This is my jurisdiction, not yours.”

  Wylie hadn’t reached his position of authority by giving in. He gestured toward Maggie. “That man in there needs her. She’s his wife.”

  “Good, then she can fill out the admission forms while we take care of her husband.” Nurse Miller apparently had earned a few commendations of her own. “In the meantime, if you want this man to be treated as quickly as possible, you’ll both stay out of our way. It’s been a busy day around here, and I don’t want my staff tripping over weepy spouses and jumpy cops with itchy trigger fingers.”

  “I don’t care what you want. I want someone in there with him.”

  Her eyebrows drew together. Nurse Miller, who wasn’t much shorter than Wylie’s six-foot height and looked as solid as a line backer, glared at him. “Don’t make me get mean, sonny.”

  To Wylie’s credit, he didn’t slap handcuffs on her, although for a moment Maggie wasn’t sure what he’d do. Few dared to challenge Wylie. And Maggie doubted he’d ever been called “sonny” in his life. He glared back. “Who’s your best surgeon?”

  “Dr. Anderson.”

  “Get him.”

  “That might be a bit tough. She’s in Vegas at a doctor’s convention.” Nurse Miller didn’t bat an eye or seem impressed by Wylie’s steely attempt to take command. “I don’t think this man can wait, unless you’re more interested in collecting his death benefits than saving his life.”

  Wylie’s nostril flared. “Who is your superior?”

  She folded her arms across her ample chest. “God.” she replied, managing to stretch the name of the higher authority into two syllables.

  Maggie might have enjoyed their repartee any other time or place if she hadn’t seen Griff’s color go from ash gray to a sickly white. The power play between Wylie and the nurse was costing precious time. Stepping between them, Maggie addressed the nurse. “We want to consult with the doctor before any critical decisions are made. Your patient took a bullet in the leg and one in the shoulder.”

  Nurse Miller gave Maggie’s torn, bloodied wedding attire a quick sweep before pivoting away.

  As the doors swished shut behind her, Wylie swore. “I’ll bet that woman worked for the KGB.” He thrust agitated fingers through his hair, disturbing the silvery wave. “No wonder people die in here.”

  “Stop talking like that.” Maggie wrapped her numb hands around her midsection. Her fingers still tingled from the tight grip Griff had had on her hand. The rest of her body and mind seemed numb, unable to fathom the notion of the stalwart Griff Murdock being felled by a bullet. “He isn’t going to die,” she said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  The crevices on Wylie’s weathered face deepened. He walked over to the doors and tried to peer through the frosted glass. “You should be in there.”

  “They can’t do anything without our permission.”

  He made a rude snort. “They make their own rules. It must be something with the color of the walls or the ugly uniforms. Everyone I’ve ever cared about has come out in a zipped bag.”

  Her patience snapped. “Stop it! Griff isn’t going to die.”

  Wylie seemed as surprised as she was by her testiness. He gave her a cool assessing look and then attempted to smooth down the peaks of silvery hair he’d disturbed a moment earlier. “I need to find a phone. Let me know if anything changes.”

  Without waiting for her response, Wylie strode down the hall, leaving her alone in the pale corridor.

  Maggie paced back and forth, still rubbing her arms, trying to ward off the eerie chill that built gooseflesh across her body.

  She hated hospitals. Most cops did. Hospitals and their inmates were an alien world to be avoided at all costs. Cops understood the role and makeup of almost every player in society. They knew the talk and walked the walk alongside battered wives, abandoned children, drug pushers, white collar criminals and serial killers. Being an amateur psychologist went hand in hand with the job. Their knowledge gave them authority—until they stepped inside the antiseptic world of a hospital. Then they discovered how little they knew and what little authority they had when it came to determining the final battle between life and death. Unfortunately, too many lost the final battle. Just like her father had.

  Perhaps that’s why she knew she could no longer be a cop. She didn’t believe in the invincibility of the job.

  Wylie had asked her to reconsider leaving Pendleton, wanting to extend her contract. But Maggie didn’t have energy for this kind of work any longer. She had to find a new life.

  She stared at the frosty windowed doors and wondered how Griff was doing and then berated herself for caring. Murdock was a cop through and through. He’d live and die according to his job. Why should she worry about what was inevitable?

  Wylie had insisted they take him to the city hospital instead of the nearby community facility close to the Wisconsin-Illinois border. During the endless ride to the general hospital in Pendleton, Griff hadn’t said a word, his eyes opening and closing at random intervals. She didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blood in her entire life.

  The sight of him on the ground, blood pouring from his leg and shoulder wounds, had momentarily paralyzed her. For half a heartbeat, she’d gone blank as fear threatened to destroy what little composure she had left. Then reason reasserted itself. She refused to let him die. She vaguely recalled grabbing the hem of her wedding dress and ripping off a piece to staunch the flow of blood.

  Griff’s inner toughness had kept him conscious. If it hadn’t been for the hard set to his mouth and the tight grip on her finger
s, she might have believed he didn’t feel any pain. But she knew his iron will was the only thing that kept him mute or from falling into unconsciousness.

  She had to believe his alertness was a good sign.

  The tightness of her wedding dress made her peruse the battered garment she still wore. It looked like the department would have to fork over the full price of the dress. Most of the wedding props had been rented from a shop on the east side of Pendleton. She doubted if they’d take this dress back now.

  Reaching up, Maggie tugged the pins out of her hair one by one, freeing the mammoth weight of hair and the veil. She wished she’d gone ahead and changed before they’d tried to leave the church. There had been a pair of slacks and a blouse in her bag. Would that brief interruption of their departure made a difference in stopping the shooting?

  The past several months had been surreal after Wylie had called and asked her to rejoin the department. At first she’d been reluctant, but she owed Wylie. And she knew it would have pleased her father.

  How ironic that she still wanted his approval, even though he had been gone for more than a year.

  She agreed to a six-month contract.

  It had been three years since she’d left Pendleton and the department. Working with the Pendleton officers again hadn’t been nearly as uncomfortable as she’d feared. But the engagement for the sting operation had been weird. She didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight, with everyone hovering around her plying her with best wishes and hearty congratulations. Sales-clerks had besieged her as she’d shopped for her wedding finery and registered for china. Misty-eyed little old ladies had clucked their delight and regaled her with romantic memories. Single women had treated her like crowned royalty, hovering close, hoping to absorb some of the limelight. The strangeness had been uncomfortable for the only child of a cop who sometimes forgot to come home on Christmas Day.

  The worst had been listening to the crowing enthusiasm of her fellow officers. Who would have thought a group of policemen could get so excited about a wedding? But they had. Closer than any tight-knit family, the Pendleton Police Department had never planned a wedding before. From the wedding cake to the marriage license to the limo service, there wasn’t a detail that hadn’t been subjected to dissection, lengthy discussions and raunchy humor. Nothing had been private or sacred. They openly speculated about Griff’s and Maggie’s sex life, where they’d live, what kind of house they should buy and how many children they’d have.