Page 70 of Risk of a Lifetime
“Yes, I am. I really am. But you’re telling me your way. The lawman way. Precise and calculated.” She rose from the chair, walked to the front door. “Come over here and tell me my way. Tell me in terms I can understand.”
He grabbed the Glock from the table, shoved it into his shoulder holster, then came to stand beside her. Tension flashed in the air. Veins on his arms stood at attention as he rolled his fingers. Kept them moving. He was more than worried.
She nudged in front of him and took his hand. “Tell me where to find them as if we were out for a walk. Like you pointed to something you want me to see.”
Straight, he stood perfectly straight, unyielding and professional. She snuggled against his chest. He tried to back away, but she looped his arm around her, snuggling more. She was trying to be what a lawman’s wife should be, but he needed to help her learn the mechanics of his job. Her inner turmoil was her own to handle, and she was trying. She already knew seeing him hurt in person would be her tipping point one way or the other.
For now, she just needed to know where the weapons were hidden.
“Here.” She pointed to her cheek. “Come here and tell me. Which way is northwest?”
From her periphery, she saw a tiny smile grab the corners of his mouth. From behind, he bent and placed his cheek next to hers, pointed to the right, then brought his arm back to the left a bit. “That way. Go off the porch and walk to the tree covered in big woodpecker holes.”
She closed her eyes. Nodded.
His body relaxed against her. “There’s a downed log along side.”
“The one we saw the squirrel with a nut in his mouth run across?”
“Yep. The fireplace poker will be—”
“Lengthwise, under the leaves by the log. Next.” She leaned into his hold. “Okay. Next.”
His hold tightened around her, and he kissed her cheek, then nestled against her. “The gun. The gun will be loaded and ready to fire, so be careful. It’ll be in the bait box on the dock.”
“What if it gets wet?”
“It should still fire okay.”
Hopefully, this would all play out without her being close to the water, so that weapon wouldn’t do her much good. Besides, she had the gun he gave her tucked in her coat pocket. “And the extra clip?”
“Under a flat piece of shale by that sapling you grabbed when you were saving me.”
After turning in his arms, she looped hers around his neck. “Now see, I know exactly where everything is.”
“Don’t forget. Don’t ever forget how much I love you, either.” He lowered his head, kissing her deep and long. For a moment, they clung to each other, his breath a whisper in her hair. “And always remember, I planned for every scenario possible today. No matter what happens, I walked through it in my mind and accepted the outcome. Remember that forever, Marcy. You will survive, I promise.”
Her insides tripped. Something in his tone, his hold, his words. What had she missed? Those words sounded like goodbye. “What are you up to, JB?”
He grabbed the clip, gun, and poker, then headed for the door. “Lock up after I go out. Do not open this door unless it’s me. Anyone else comes through that door without your say-so, shoot ‘em.”
She understood. Nodded. They dimmed the lights. Funny how quick darkness rolled in during the winter. Low and fast, he slipped outside. She set the lock and waited. Overcast, moonless nights in the woods meant complete, smothering darkness. Even though the dark wasn’t something she relished, it didn’t scare her. The water plan did.
Watching JB’s brain work through the what-ifs of this situation made her see him as more than just her husband. Trained to the hilt, he possessed something else. Something she’d seen in him since the day he’d stopped Leon from taking her homework back in sixth grade. The bully never even landed a punch, because JB had turned to the right, faked to the left, and floored him.
She’d been impressed a seventh grader had stood up for her, especially the cutest boy in school. When he’d handed her the papers back, he’d grinned and told her to let him know if anyone ever bothered her again. The rest of that day had been a sheer loss of learning, because she thought of nothing but her champion, JB Bradley.
Now, like then, he knew how to anticipate the other guy’s reaction before the movement. Once this was over, the FBI would ignore his resignation. Fight to get him back. She wanted him back, too.
Maybe that’s what his words were about. He probably figured his career should be the top priority. There’d be no future for the two of them, because he planned to leave. What else could it be? Why else would he say those words in that tone? Why?
She reached for the horticulture book on the sofa. Flipped through the pages. Her husband had sneaked it into his backpack and carried the extra weight through the woods for her. Loving him was easy, so why did she always try to make things so difficult? Not this time. This time she’d never let him go…as long as he wanted to stay. She could handle him being a Crayton deputy. FBI agent? She didn’t know. But he was one damn good agent; that much she did know.
Close to thirty minutes later, JB tapped on the window, then the door, then said her name. She unlocked the door, and he crept inside. They kept the lights off.
“What took so long?” she said.
“Did a little reconnaissance of my own. Listening. Watching.” He gave one bear-shiver to shake off the cold. “The wind’s picking up. Getting nasty out there.”
