Strategically Wed Read online

  Fortunately she didn’t have to make arrangements for the rest of her belongings. Her landlord was scheduled to be gone for the next three months while he visited his children. He had told her there was no hurry for her to move out.

  Locking the door behind her, she stowed her gear into her station wagon that was parked in the yard behind the house. Then she retrieved Griff’s suitcase from the trunk of Christine’s car.

  Flashing a “let’s go” wave toward Christine, she drove back toward the hospital with the police car keeping pace behind her. Through her rearview mirror, Maggie kept her own eye on any suspicious activity behind them. She stuck to residential streets, which were quieter and made it easier to spot a shadow.

  It occurred to her that this might be the last time she’d have to herself for the next few weeks. Was it too late to find another solution instead of fleeing to northern Wisconsin?

  An African safari? A trip to Siberia? A dogsled ride to the Arctic?

  As tempting as each of these escapes sounded, she knew that unless the shooter came forward and turned himself in, she was stuck.

  And that’s just how she saw it, too.

  Stuck going on a honeymoon with Griff.

  Chapter 6

  They slipped out of town just after midnight, with not even the hospital staff alerted to their exit.

  Wylie planned to smooth over any explanations after Maggie and Griff were safely out of range.

  Maggie navigated the highway, too conscious of Griff’s unrelenting presence in the back of the car. His cast made sitting in the passenger seat an impossibility. She couldn’t decide if that was to her advantage or not.

  “Dim your lights.” Griff’s voice growled a warning.

  Maggie’s mouth tightened as she flicked the hand control.

  Damn! He was already getting in the way of her normal good sense. As soon as the beam responded to a lower wattage, she said, “Why don’t I drive and you sleep? It’s a good four hours to Jonas Falls.”

  “I don’t sleep in cars.”

  “Fine. I’ll sleep and you drive. Let me know when we get there.”

  “I would if I could.”

  “Right. You can’t and I can.”

  “Touchy, aren’t you?”

  “Only toward grouches and back seat drivers.”

  For a moment he didn’t respond. As the tires of the vehicle hummed against the pavement, she could feel his watchfulness even though she couldn’t see him.

  “I guess I deserved that,” he finally said. “I’m not used to relinquishing control.”

  “And you don’t trust me,” she said flatly.

  “Any reason why I should?”

  “I’ve given you no reason not to,” she countered.

  A voice in her head urged her to ignore Griff. Normally she’d feel sorry for someone with two bullet wounds in him and would overlook any crankiness.

  But Griff had always brought out the worst in her. Despite the roominess of the station wagon, Griff seemed to fill every corner. There were no buffers like the ones they’d had during their so-called engagement. The other officers were safely out of range. It was just she and her nemesis. And the tension in the back of her neck was killing her.

  “Relax. I’m not going to grab the wheel,” Griff drawled.

  Her laugh contained no humor. “You expect me to trust you when you can’t trust me?”

  “With my leg in a cast and my arm out of commission, it wouldn’t be smart for me to try anything that would put us both in danger. I’m not looking for a return visit to the hospital. How about calling a truce?”

  “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “It’s either that or one of us will kill the other one.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly that she couldn’t contain the smile that turned up the corners of her mouth.

  “That’s a possibility I hadn’t considered.” She flexed her fingers, attempting to loosen the death grip she had on the steering wheel. “If one of us took out the other, then we wouldn’t have to hole up in the north woods of Wisconsin.”

  “I should warn you,” Griff said. “I’ve gotten pretty good with this crutch.”

  She shook her head. “Could have fooled me. You didn’t look too steady with it when we left the hospital.”

  “Don’t tempt me, Bennington.”

  “Say the word, Murdock, and I’ll stop the car. We can get this over with right now.”

  He suddenly started to laugh. “Why do I have a feeling you’d do it, too?”

  “Because I’m BJ’s daughter.”

  “And you hate my guts.”

  “Forever and ever.”

  The insane conversation bordered on the macabre. She found herself feeling amazingly relaxed. As relaxed as she could be with Griff sitting behind her.

  He sighed. “I suppose Wylie wouldn’t take kindly to having to deal with another murder and murder victim.”

  “It could delay the investigation.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  “Ditto.”

  For the next few miles, silence reigned. They passed through two small towns, and she was careful to maintain the speed limit. They didn’t want to alert anyone to their presence.

  As soon as they entered the open highway again, Maggie resumed her speed. She heard Griff shift in the seat behind her. “Do you want me to pull over?”

  “No, I’m just trying to find a comfortable position.”

  She felt him bump the back of her seat and muffle a curse.

  “What the heck is this thing at my feet?”

  “A sewing machine.”

  “Why did you bring that?”

  “I’m not going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs for the next month and a half.”

  “You’re going to sew a new wardrobe?”

  “No. I’m making doll clothes.”

  “Doll clothes? You play with dolls?”

  “You’d rather I played with guns?” she asked.

  She heard him shift in the seat behind her. “Sorry. I asked for that one, didn’t I? Guess I’m having trouble getting the hang of being married again.”

  With the aid of the dashboard lights, Maggie’s gaze met his through the rearview mirror. “I’d forgotten you were married before. Is there something I should know?”

  Stilted silence met her query. The light atmosphere of a few minutes earlier disappeared.

  She couldn’t help but ponder why he never talked about his marriage. Maggie vaguely recalled he’d been married when he moved to Pendleton. His wife had been dark-haired and had worn a chronic petulant expression the few times Maggie had seen her. Within the year Griff’s wife died, the result of a car accident. Maggie had heard rumors that Griff’s wife had run away with another man. But her father would never talk about it.

  Maggie wasn’t surprised that the marriage had been on the verge of dissolution. Griff was married to his job, just as Maggie’s father had been. There were few good marriages on the police force. The brotherhood always prevailed over other relationships.

  Had that been what had happened to Griff’s marriage? Had his wife resented competing with the department for his attention?

  Curiosity sparked question upon question, even as she kept alert to any possible tails.

  The road behind them stayed quiet, however, while her head continued to work overtime.

  She knew that Griff dated occasionally. There was no doubt about his sexual orientation. However, he never brought the same woman to any of the police social functions.

  Did Griff still love his wife? Did he feel a sense of betrayal? Or loss? Was that why he’d never married again?

  Careful, Maggie, you can’t afford to take an interest in the man. She refused to let a man like Griff get under her skin. If she was going to survive the next couple of weeks, she needed to bolster her barriers.

  The armored quiet presiding over the car seemed like an ominous foreplay to what lie ahead when she faced cohabiting with the man she’d res
ented her entire adult life.

  The cabin, nestled at the end of a deserted stretch of road, remained invisible until they turned the last bend and their headlights illuminated a shadowy building.

  By the time Maggie pulled the vehicle into the solitary garage, Griff was clenching his teeth, bracing for the agony of moving his numb limb. He didn’t think he’d been more uncomfortable in his life. Yet he wasn’t looking forward to having Maggie assist him out of the car.

  According to Wylie, the caretakers took a holiday as soon as the summer tourists fled back to their winter homes, so Wylie hadn’t had to make explanations to anyone other than the local sheriff about their sudden appearance.

  Maggie turned off the ignition and opened the car door to assist him.

  “Get the bags out of the back,” he said tersely. “I can manage myself.”

  “My hero.” Her voice was every bit as sarcastic as his. “You think you can get up those steps without help, Big Guy, go ahead.”

  She didn’t try to talk him out of his obstinacy. Turning her back on him, she yanked open the gate and pulled several bags out of the back end.

  As soon as she climbed the steps and unlocked the cabin, Griff tried to wedge his body out of the cramped seat. His limbs and joints were stiffer than he’d thought.

  Maggie reappeared as he hefted his body from the back seat. Unfortunately, his crutch was out of his reach.

  Without saying a word, Maggie handed it to him and then returned to grab another load of stuff.

  Griff faced the flight of steps and buried a groan. They were every bit as intimidating as if he were about to tackle the climb to the top of the Sears Tower. He took one step and nearly pitched face-first into the uneven ground. His normal leg was still protesting from the muscle cramps of being cooped up.

  Struggling to maintain his balance, he suddenly found his arm lifted and a small pair of shoulders braced against his ribs.

  Maggie’s face lifted toward his. The brilliant green militancy of her gaze dared him to challenge her assistance.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  With the steely lock he had on his jaw, he could do little more than nod. The steep awkward steps weren’t nearly as jarring as the heat and firm curves of Maggie’s body pressed against him. Her thin shirt didn’t provide any kind of buffer. She’d taken off her jacket before they’d started out. He’d known the next few weeks would test his sanity. He just hadn’t wanted to realize how much.

  “The architect of this staircase had a twisted sense of humor,” Maggie said.

  “Either that or he liked small people,” Griff agreed, relieved at Maggie’s attempt to keep things light and impersonal.

  Without her help, it would have taken him a hell of a lot longer to ascend the narrow width of the stairs.

  He was surprised how strong and steady Maggie felt beneath his arm as they conquered the first step.

  “Remind me that I get to put a bullet in the shooter’s leg when Wylie nabs the coward,” he said breathing heavily.

  “I think that’s too merciful.” She didn’t flinch as he leaned even more heavily.

  By the time they reached the top, they were both panting and it had nothing to do with the caged heat of the early autumn night.

  Griff readjusted his crutch. “I think I can make it from here.”

  “All right.” Maggie wedged the door and stood aside. “The lights are on. You can take the bedroom.”

  The cold absence after Maggie removed her warm support jarred Griff. This sharp sense of loss he could do without. It was a heck of a beginning.

  Griff lowered himself onto a kitchen chair as Maggie made her final trip outside. He heard the sound of the locks being engaged in her car, followed by the garage doors swinging shut.

  Then she came into the cabin. As soon as the door closed behind her the atmosphere inside the small cabin became closer.

  She set Griff’s suitcase on the floor and perched a bag of groceries on the short kitchen counter. She scanned the room critically. “I’ll close those window blinds so the lights can’t be seen from the road.”

  Griff hated feeling useless as she leaned across and yanked the cord. The worst part was his inability to look away as her short-sleeved sweater hitched up to expose the smooth creamy skin of her lower back.

  “That should do it, don’t you think?”

  Her question caught him unaware. For a second he couldn’t think what she was talking about. When her gaze narrowed suspiciously, he made a quick recovery. “What about the window at the back?”

  “There’s no window covering. I’ll check the closets for an extra blanket, but it might not be necessary since that side faces the woods.”

  “This place is already stuffy,” Griff noted.

  Shutting out any more light would make the room uncomfortably close.

  The cabin had been designed to maximize efficiency. The cedar-lined walls housed a tight kitchen alcove, a one-step-you’re-in or one-step-you’re-out bathroom and a small bedroom in addition to the main room that wasn’t much bigger than a den.

  The last thing they needed was for their living quarters to become cozier than it already was.

  He noticed Maggie was trying to keep her eyes averted from him. Awkwardness riddled the silence.

  He didn’t like how he was suddenly so aware of her.

  Maggie lifted the grocery bags from the table and moved them to the small counter. “I’ll put these away if you want to get ready for bed.”

  “You take the bedroom.”

  “What about—”

  He cut her off. “I don’t want to keep you awake.”

  Her eyes found his. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her it was best not to argue. She pointed to his suitcase. “Do you need help with some of this?”

  “Leave it for now. I’ll find a place for it later.”

  “Fine. I’ll pull out the sofa bed.”

  He nodded and made an effort to look away as she flipped the cushions off the couch and pulled on the strap to unfold the mattress. Under its own volition, Griff’s gaze slipped back to see her sweater move upward again. His mouth dried and he clutched the handle of his crutch, purposefully emptying his mind as she finished smoothing the blankets.

  After she found a pillow in the closet and tossed it on the sofa, she tugged her sweater back into place before picking up her own bag. “I guess if that’s all—”

  “It is.”

  “Do you need help with anything?”

  “No.”

  Her gaze flickered from the bed to him. “What about your clothes?”

  Griff’s mouth twisted into something that should have been a smile, but clearly wasn’t. “Anxious to start performing your wifely duties?”

  She lifted her chin and gave him a frigid glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I don’t need you to tuck me in, Bennington.”

  Griff’s patience sounded decidedly strained.

  “Who said I was volunteering, Murdock?” A trace of red eased up her neckline. She didn’t look at him as she crossed the room. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Griff found himself alone, left to deal with his own bad temper. Using their last names reminded them both to be professional. But the earthy surroundings seemed designed to undermine his intent.

  He was going to have to find a way to keep his mind on his job.

  Using his good hand, he unsnapped his jeans. Removing them, however, wasn’t an option. Even if he could struggle out of them and into the pajamas Maggie bought, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. And he figured it was safer for everyone if he didn’t shuck his jeans. His limbs might be a little worse for the wear, but there wasn’t a thing wrong with his libido.

  He was much too conscious of Maggie moving around in the other room.

  Finally, all was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Despite the wee early morning hour, Griff suspected Maggie wasn’t asleep anymore than he was.

  Hell, he
wanted to smash down the door and that made him even more frustrated.

  She was his so-called wife. In name only. Yet from the moment he’d gotten into the vehicle with her, he’d had a hard time remembering that fact.

  He’d noticed how the dashboard lights caught the red in her hair. Whenever they’d pass under the street lights, he’d catch sight of the creamy arch of her neck and wondered how it would feel beneath his touch.

  Forget it, Griff. She was exactly the kind of woman he had vowed to stay away from. Hadn’t he learned his lesson when Sonja died?

  He’d thought he had.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  How many times would he have to remind himself over the next month and a half that Maggie Bennington was off-limits?

  Eternity was starting to seem shorter than the weeks ahead.

  Chapter 7

  Throughout the remainder of the night, Maggie counted every hour. By the time dawn crept through the thicket of trees guarding the cabin, she was exhausted. It was only then she allowed the tension to roll from her exhausted body, and she slid into a dreamless sleep.

  Several hours later she awoke.

  She lay listening for any sounds coming from the other room.

  There were none.

  Had Griff been able to sleep on that sofa bed? She didn’t think comfort had ever been the primary purpose behind the design of sofa beds. But Griff had been insistent that he sleep on this one.

  Had he worn the new pajamas she’d purchased?

  Dare she venture out into the other room in case he hadn’t?

  The last thing she needed to do was see more of Griff Murdock than she had to.

  Basic needs finally forced her to get out of bed. By the time she cautiously inched out of the bedroom, she had showered and dressed.

  Slowly she eased open the door and came to an abrupt stop. Little had changed since the night before. Griff was propped in the big leather chair next to the neatly made sofa bed.

  Griff didn’t look as if he’d weathered the night well. He still wore the same clothes he’d worn the day before. His eyes sported deep sunken hollows, darker than twin cesspools. His jaw looked gritty with a shadowy telltale sign of whiskers.