Thunder Horse Heritage. Elle James
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you in North Dakota?” she asked.
His lips thinned. “As a matter of fact, I am. Just flew into Bismarck a couple hours ago and made a quick run south to Fort Yates.”
She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Oh, thank God.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No. No, nothing is all right.”
Tuck couldn’t agree with her more. Anyone with the gall to pass herself off as a dead woman wasn’t firing on all cylinders. “Tell me where you are.”
“In Fort Yates.” Her words were spoken carefully, as if she was afraid to give away too much.
“Where in Fort Yates? I’ll see what I can do to get there.”
“I can’t tell you. Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you.”
“I’m at the casino.”
After a long pause, she whispered, “Meet me in fifteen minutes at the marina below the casino. Come alone.”
Alone. Tuck’s sense of self-preservation tensed. She could be setting him up. But for what? Hell, at this point did it matter? He wanted to know her game. “It’s dark. How will I find you?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.”
Before he could question her further, the line clicked in his ear.
His emotions still raw from seeing the woman he’d married on a whim lying dead on the shore of Lake Oahe, Tuck’s blood ran cold then hot, blazing through his veins like fast-flowing molten lava. How dared she? How dared this stranger call claiming to be Julia, when Julia lay dead?
He checked his watch and headed out the door. The walk to the marina from the hotel wouldn’t take long, five minutes max. That would give him ten minutes to watch for her to arrive if she wasn’t already there.
His stride ate the distance. Part of him wanted to notify Josh of the phone call, but something in the
woman’s voice made him hesitate. He had to know her story before he called in his friend, otherwise Behling might think he was imagining things.
Wide-open expanses of North Dakota prairie were interspersed with scrubby little trees along the road down to the marina. Tuck scanned both sides, peering into the bushes and the shadows of the limited vegetation along the way.
The marina consisted of two long jetties jutting out into Lake Oahe with small, medium and large boats moored in the slips. The marina building perched at one end of the pair of jetties, closed for the night, shuttered, with all merchandise displays tucked within the walls. Besides a dirty yellow streetlight on the marina, two lone lights jutted from the top of poles at the end of each jetty, reflecting light off the inky water below.
Tuck had about given up trying to find the woman when a figure detached itself from the shadow of the marina building, a dark cap pulled down low. As Tuck neared the figure, her head turned left then right in a jerky, nervous movement. She wore a long, draping shawl wrapped around her body, disguising her figure. She could have been a young or old woman, fat or thin. He couldn’t tell, but he’d find out soon enough.
Tuck stood back, studying the woman for a moment, gathering his nerve and tamping down the desire to strangle her for playing the role of a murder victim.
Coaching himself to calm, he forced all anger from his face and demeanor, then walked forward.
She remained hidden in the shadows.
“I’m here…Julia.” His teeth ground together on her name. “What do you want?” Tuck stopped, refusing to move closer. She’d have to meet him halfway.
The hint of a sob drifted across the crisp evening air toward him, and the woman moved another step out of the shadows, her hand reaching out. The glow from the yellowed night light glanced off the side of her face, illuminating her profile.
Tuck sucked in a breath and backed up a step. The female was the image of the one the medical examiner had pronounced dead only a short while ago.
Tuck lurched forward, gripping her arms, his fingers digging in, refusing to let her escape. “Who the hell are you?”
She hunched her shoulders, her body shaking, staring up at him, searching his face. “Tuck?” His name wasn’t so much a question as a statement, and some of the tension in her arms slackened.
Tuck’s grip tightened. He’d be ready if she tried to make a run for it.
“We can’t stay here,” she whispered.
Tuck’s eyes narrowed. “We’re not going anywhere until you answer my question…here…now.” His jaw tightened and he refused to move.
Her gaze darted left then right. “We’re not safe.”
He snorted. “Should have thought of that before you chose this spot.”
“I had to be sure it was you before…”
“Before what?”
“Please, could we go somewhere safe, not so out in the open?” She tugged against his grip, her gaze darting past him.
“Who are you afraid of?” Tuck demanded.
“I don’t know.” She stared up at him, her blue eyes wide, frightened. “Please, we have to go somewhere safe.”
“We can stay here or go to my room at the casino.” His mouth pressed into a thin line. He was reluctant to let this woman into his room, but curiosity burned too strongly to ignore. He had to know who she was and what was going on.
“Your room?” Again her gaze darted left then right, and she ducked her head. “No, I can’t,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t go back there.”
“We don’t have many choices in a town the size of Fort Yates. Do you have any other suggestions?”
“I can’t go home.” Her body drooped, her arms going limp. “I have nowhere else to go.”
Tuck hesitated another second, then let go of one of her arms, keeping a tight hold on the other as he led her back the way he’d come, toward the hotel casino. He berated himself inwardly for falling into her plan, but if he wanted to get to the bottom of this charade, he had to play along until he got answers.
As they neared the hotel, she slowed, adjusted the bulky shawl around her middle, bringing the fabric high around her neck. With shaking hands, she tugged the hat lower over her eyes, pushing long, loose strands of hair back under the hat’s rim.
Past being patient, Tuck nudged her forward with a little more force than he intended and stepped up on the back porch of the casino, pushing through the double glass doors to the stairwell.
The shawl-wrapped female stumbled. A small cry burst from beneath the shawl, but it didn’t sound as if it came from the woman.
“What the hell?” Tuck reached out to yank the shawl aside.
A hand whipped out, knocking his aside. Blue eyes stared up at him, sandy-blond brows diving like daggers toward the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”
“I’m not taking you into the hotel until I know what you’re hiding beneath that shawl.” He reached out again for the shawl.
She stepped back, her chin tightening, her eyes narrowing to slits. “And I’m telling you if you try to remove the shawl, I’ll kill you.” To emphasize her point, she jabbed him in the side with the business end of a revolver. “Now, are we going to your room or what?”
Tuck’s pulse leaped. If he wasn’t mistaken, the gun appeared to be a SIG Sauer revolver, just like the one he carried on duty with the FBI. Unfortunately, his was at the armory. Headed for a week off, he hadn’t seen the need to carry. What the hell was she doing with a
SIG Sauer? The way she held the revolver