Twice Kissed (9 page)

“And you don’t?”

“I think she’s on a faster track than she should be.”

“All kids are these days,” he observed.

“You don’t understand.” Maggie seemed as if she were going to say something more, then thought better of it and held her tongue.

“Enlighten me.”

The look she leveled at him would cut through stone. “I don’t have enough years in my life left.”

His mouth twitched despite his bad mood, but she wasn’t kidding. “Look, I’ll call Connie and Jim tonight. Make sure that Becca got there.” Her eyes were as clouded as the Boise sky, her skin pale. She glanced his way. “Okay, so let’s get this show on the road.” As if she’d given herself a swift mental kick, she turned away from the viewing window and headed down the concourse. Thane tried not to notice the jut of her chin or the lines of agitation that creased her usually smooth brow. Nor did he let his eyes wander to the sway of her hips as she strode so purposefully along the hallway. Sometimes she looked so much like Mary Theresa that his emotions got the better of him—rage and distrust charged into his soul.

And now good ole Mary Theresa, no, make that Marquise, was exacting her final revenge. On him. It was fitting somehow, a fine case of irony if there ever was one.

Outside the terminal, snow was blowing across the parking lot, scattering in the bitter wind that tore mercilessly down from northern Canada. He glanced at the sky, muttered an oath under his breath, and prayed they would find some way to outrun the storm that was predicted to chase them all the way to Colorado.

He unlocked the passenger side of the truck and waited until Maggie was tucked inside, then he slammed the door shut and knew in his gut that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life—well, second biggest. The first had been marrying Mary Theresa Riley.

He had no choice. He had a job to do. Nothing more. He couldn’t forget his objective for a second. He slid a surreptitious look at the woman seated so close to him. Beautiful. Smart. Treacherous. Just like her sister. Or the rest of womankind for that matter. In Thane’s opinion, they were all alike. Every damned one of them.

“Okay, so you be good for Aunt Connie and Uncle Jim, okay?” Maggie said into the mouthpiece of the pay telephone.

“I will, Mom.” Becca sounded distracted, ready to bolt; she was in California and didn’t need or want to deal with her mother.

“I’ll call when I get to Denver.” It was dark, and outside the phone booth snow swirled in a fine powder that piled on the roof of the roadside cafe and covered the parking lot.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Becca—” she reproached and caught sight of filthy words and telephone numbers scratched into the metal where a missing phone book had once been tethered.
For a good time call Pamela. Randy loves Jill.
Hearts. Arrows. And the usual four letters.

“I said ‘fine.’”

There was no reason to try and reprimand her from hundreds of miles away. “Okay. Love ya. Bye.”

“Bye.” Click. Becca had hung up, and Maggie stared at the receiver for a few heart-wrenching seconds. Her baby was growing away from her, taking off with all the restless energy of a pent-up colt at the gate.
Give her time,
she told herself as she hung up.
Remember how you were at thirteen.

Inside the diner the smells of grilled onions, smoke, and day-old grease lingered in an invisible cloud near the rafters. The heating system was wheezing as it worked overtime against the dropping outdoor temperature. Colored lights, strung over the windows as if it was nearly Christmas rather than early November, winked merrily. Someone had plugged a jukebox full of quarters, and country music played on and on, accompanied by the tinkle of silverware, the murmur of conversation, and the ripple of discordant riffs of laughter.

Thane sat on one side of a wooden booth, his jacket hung on a peg. A few glints of gray appeared in the stubble darkening his chin, and the lines radiating from the corners of his eyes aged him a bit, but he still possessed that raw animal magnetism that she’d found fascinating at nineteen, an innate sexuality that some men were cursed with all of their lives.

“Get her?” he asked, looking up from a plastic-encased menu that sported more than its share of burn marks from cigarettes smoked long ago.

“Yep.”

“Everything okay?”

“Other than rampant teenage attitude?” She picked up her menu, scanned the dinner selections, and avoided the questions in his eyes. Her relationship with her daughter was none of his business. “Have you ordered?”

“Just coffee.”

A slim waitress in a checked blouse, tight jeans, and scarf tied loosely around her long neck appeared with two cups and a thermal pot. “Regular?” she asked, and poured as they nodded. “Made up yer minds on dinner?”

“Burger and fries.” Maggie wasn’t in the mood to count calories or fat grams or anything else for that matter. “With the works.”

“Same—but cheese on the burger,” Thane ordered.

“You got it.” She whisked away, slapping the order on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining area.

“How far to Denver?”

“Too far.” Thane looked into the night. “We can’t outrun the storm, so we just have to drive as far as we can. Probably Salt Lake. I’ve got studs on the tires, chains in the back if we need ’em. We won’t be stranded.”

“How do you know?”

He swung his gaze back to her. “I won’t let that happen.”

“So now you’re God?”

His lips pursed. “Just don’t worry.”

“You take more risks than I do.”

“I’ll get us through this.”

“Look, Thane, I said I’d go to Denver with you. I said I’d talk to the police. I even said that I’d vouch for you, though God knows I don’t trust you for a second, but I’ve learned over the years that I shouldn’t rely on anyone, that I can stand on my own two feet, and that they’re steadier than anyone’s shoulder I’ve ever made the mistake of leaning on, including yours.”

A muscle worked near his temple. “So now we’re down to it, aren’t we?”

“Just forget it.”

“You know, Maggie,” he said, resting his head against the wooden back of the booth, “you’re starting to sound like a bitter woman.”

“I wonder why?” she threw back at him. She was edgy and nervous, saw no reason to hide it. “And really, who cares?”

“You do.”

“Do I?” She nearly laughed but he’d hit too close to the mark.

“It’s not like the girl I remember.”

She stopped short, her breath caught in her lungs.
Don’t fall for this, Maggie. You’re way too smart, and you’ve been burned before.
“I think we’d better not go into what you or I remember.”

“Why not?”

Was that her heart drumming? “Water under the bridge, cowboy. That’s all it is.” She took a sip of her coffee and was grateful that her hand was steady. This conversation was getting way too personal.

“I don’t think so.” Suddenly he leaned forward, his elbows landing on the Formica tabletop. “I think you’re scared.”

Damned straight.
“Of what?”

“Me, for starters.

“In your dreams.”

“Not my dreams, kid. My nightmares.”

“Let’s not get into this, okay? It’s not the time, or the place. All we have to concentrate on is Mary Theresa.”

His steady gaze called her a liar.

“And whatever you do, Walker, don’t try and second-guess me or psychoanalyze my motives, or read more into my words.” She hooked her thumb at her chest. “I tell it just like it is, okay?”

The waitress returned on hushed shoes. A plastic smile curved her glossy apricot-hued lips as she slid two platters onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

Yeah, a one-way ticket back home.

“This’ll do,” Thane said, then quirked an eyebrow at Maggie, inviting her opinion without saying a word.

“Just catsup.”

“Comin’ right up.” She turned, snagged a plastic squirt bottle from the counter, and plopped it in front of Maggie.

“Thanks.”

“If ya need anything, just give a holler.” She motioned to the counter, where a refrigerated case spun slowly, showing off an array of confections. “You just might want dessert, and our lemon meringue pie is to die for. No kiddin’. Baked fresh.” She pivoted on a soft-soled pump and focused her attention on a table of men with round bellies, flushed faces, baseball caps of various colors, and toothpicks wedged into the sides of their mouths.

Maggie ate in silence, and Thane didn’t bother trying to break into her thoughts or making meaningless chitchat. In a small diner where everyone talked, laughed, smoked, and flirted, they ate in stony silence, the past edging into Maggie’s thoughts, eroding her equilibrium while the future towered in a dark mysterious cloud ahead. When they were finished with burgers, fries, and a wedge of pecan pie with ice cream at Thane’s insistence, he reached for his wallet.

Maggie delved into her purse.

“This is mine,” he said, eyeing her as she extracted her wallet.

“No way.”

“I practically shanghaied you to get you to come with me.”

She pulled out a ten and rested her elbows on either side of her half-eaten hamburger and the goo that had been most of her dessert. “Look, Walker, let’s get one thing straight, okay? I pay my own way. Yes, you talked me into coming, but I would have flown to Denver anyway to find out what happened to my sister. So we’ll split everything down the middle.” With that she reached for her ski jacket.

“Is that so I don’t get the wrong idea?”

The tops of her ears started to burn as she stood and shoved her arms down the jacket’s thick sleeves. Quickly, she forced her hands through the gloves that she’d stashed in one pocket. “I guess.”

She wanted to wipe the amused smile from his beard-shadowed chin. “You want to make sure I don’t think this is some kind of convoluted date, right?”

“You’re so damned conceited, it’s unbelievable.”

“It beats paranoia.”

“Barely.”

His smile faded as he tossed a matching bill onto the table. Anger flashed in his eyes. Without another word, he grabbed his jacket with one hand and Maggie’s elbow with the other.

“What’re you doing…wait.”

Silently he pulled, forcing her past the front desk, through double glass doors to the vestibule and into the dark night, where snow continued to fall. A quiet seething rage emanated from him as they strode to his truck. He unlocked the door for her, then climbed into the driver’s side. After tossing his jacket into the space behind the seat where her laptop was stowed, he jabbed his key into the ignition. The engine turned over as she buckled her seat belt. He crammed the gearshift into reverse and backed out of his parking space.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said as he threw the truck into first, maneuvered around a semi rolling into the truck stop, and eyed the desolate stretch of highway heading southeast. “I need your help. Period. I don’t expect anything more than your help in finding that damned sister of yours and helping me clear my name.” He clicked his headlights onto high beam, and snow swirled and danced in the glow. “You don’t owe me a thing, so I thought I’d take care of the expenses. This isn’t part of some grand seduction, Maggie, it’s a simple case of paying you back for your inconvenience.”

Her face was hot, her cheeks burning, but hopefully he didn’t notice in the dark cab as he scowled and squinted through the windshield.

He flipped on the wipers, then adjusted the control for the defroster. “Got it?”

“Got it,” she replied tightly, and felt like a fool. Of course he wasn’t interested in her, that wasn’t the point. She thought about holding her tongue, then decided it was best to clear the air. “I just wanted to lay down the ground rules,” she said, slowly forcing her hands from their clenched fists to relax. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Amen.” A car appeared around the corner, flashing the interior of his truck with white, artificial light. She noticed his profile: Hard. Set. Determined. One hundred percent male. A strong, sometimes fierce man. Someone who didn’t always tell the truth; she knew that from the past. So what secrets was he keeping? What was he hiding? She looked away, through the passenger window to the trees, tall heavy-boughed guardians of the night. Snow clung to their branches, and in other circumstances she would have found them and the steep hillsides they were climbing breathtaking. Tonight they seemed foreboding, casting a spell of fear and desolation.

Where was Mary Theresa? Was she alive? Oh, God, she had to be. Maggie’s throat thickened. Staring into the stormy night, she crossed her fingers and sent up silent prayer after silent prayer for her sister.

Surely Mary Theresa was safe. Surely when they got to Denver they’d find out that the ever-flighty Marquise had just left town for a few days and forgotten to tell anyone. But as much as she tried to convince herself, she felt a chill in her blood that had nothing to do with the weather, and as the snow turned to icy pellets that battered the hood of the truck and slickened the road Maggie couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Terribly and irreversibly wrong.