The Marshal Pt. 01

She glared at him defiantly as he ate. He took his time, ignoring her and letting the bag lay where it fell. When he finished, he picked the bag up, stuffed his burger wrapper and fry box into it, and threw the bag into the trash can.

"You shit!" she snarled as she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door.

He smiled as he settled onto the bed and flipped on the television. She was safe in the bathroom, probably safter than in the main room, so she could spend the entire night in there for all he cared.

Bae woke the next morning to the sound of a running shower. She lay still, listening to the water, a heavy weight in her stomach that wasn't entirely the result of hunger.

She'd pouted in the bathroom for over an hour last night before coming out. She'd have rather died than to admit she was hungry, but she had been, and he hadn't cared. Rob was such an asshole, and he'd acted like eating a decent meal was such an inconvenience. She couldn't understand how he stayed in such good shape eating shit like McDonalds all the time, and it wouldn't kill him to let her have one nice meal, would it? She'd offer the compromise of Korean delivery they could eat in the room, but that wasn't good enough for him.

Her stomach gurgled, and she wanted to cry, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She'd never been so badly treated in her life. She was Han Bo-bae, she was respected by the jopok because of her father, and when she fucking snapped her fucking fingers, people fucking jumped. Everyone except for fucking Marshal, fucking Robert, fucking Cogburn. He'd made it clear again last night he didn't give a shit who she was, or who her brother or father was. If they were back in New York, she could have some of Kwang-hoon's thugs beat some sense into him. Or could she?

Last night, Rob had been lying on the bed watching the news when she'd given up her self-imposed exile to the bathroom. She'd crawled onto the other bed, saying nothing, and as she watched, the station began a report about a Delta Airlines flight being grounded in Phoenix for a bomb threat. No bomb had been found and the airline was attributing it to a hoax. It may have been a hoax, but Rob had seen right through it, and he'd take steps to keep her safe.

Her guilt settled more heavily over her. He wasn't treating her poorly... he was treating her like an ill-behaved child. He was trying to do his job, and she wasn't making it any easier. She thought American fast food was disgusting, fit only for dogs, but she shouldn't have thrown the sack at him. He'd asked her what she wanted, and instead of trying to find a compromise, she'd become belligerent. Since she refused to give him an option he'd accept, if she didn't like what he brought back, whose fault was that?

Her gaze shifted to the two chairs neatly tucked under the table. He'd slept in a chair again, feet against the door, even though there were two beds. He was doing everything he could to keep her safe. He still pissed her off like few people could, but dammit, if she were honest with herself, a lot of her problems with him she brought on herself. She resolved to try to be nicer to him.

The shower squeaked off. She hadn't thought to buy pajama's yesterday, so she'd slept in her clothes again, and she couldn't wait to have a long, hot shower and to put on some fresh clothes.

It took him a long time to exit the bathroom, and her bladder was aching by the time he emerged. He was cleaned, pressed, and smooth shaven again. He was wearing jeans that hugged his ass much better than the tan pants he'd been wearing, and his crisp white button front shirt looked great stretched across his broad shoulders. If he weren't such an asshole, she might see if he wanted to take those clothes off again.

She rolled to the floor and hurried past him into the bathroom without saying a word to him in passing. As she relieved herself, she noticed he'd laid out all the supplies he'd bought for her yesterday on the sink. She ground her teeth. That was what pissed her off. He never seemed to get mad. Yes, he'd snap at her if she pushed him to far, but if she wasn't bitching and snarling at him, he was unfailingly polite. Like now. Everything she needed was there, and all the tags had been removed from her clothes.

"Fuck him," she muttered to herself. "It's his job to take care of me."

She flushed and then stepped into the shower. Having real shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash was an incredible luxury. She scrubbed head to toe, twice, just because it felt so good. Finished in the shower, she brushed her teeth, applied a little makeup, and fixed her hair. She threw her grungy old bra and underwear in the trash with his underwear and dressed in fresh clothes. For the first time since she left the hotel in L.A., she felt almost normal. She opened the door and stepped out.

"Nice," he said, turning from looking out of the window.

"What?" she asked.

"The clothes. Much better than what you were wearing."

She glanced down at herself. She thought she was dressed a bit MILFish in her jeans, salmon colored scoop-neck blouse, and white sneakers. "This?"

"Yeah."

She didn't understand why he'd like this over the come-fuck-me outfit she was wearing before, but as they said in Korea, je nune angyeongida, or as Lisa used to say, 'Whatever tickled his peach.' "Thanks."

He grinned, clearly picking up on her confusion. "Hungry?"

Her first thought was to snap and growl at him for causing her to miss dinner last night, but she caught herself. "Starving."

He jerked his head at the door. "Come on."

They quickly gathered the last few items she'd been using in the bathroom and piled into the car. They drove for fifteen minutes, and she was beginning to wonder if they were going to stop when he pulled off the interstate and into a packed Cracker Barrel. He led her inside, and as they waited for a table, she drooled over all the candy on display.

"I've seen these places, but never eaten at one. Is it any good?" she asked. The quiet of the drive had been a little strained and she wanted to try to break the ice between them.

"The breakfasts are amazing," he said.

They stood around for thirty minutes, her stomach growling as it begged for food, before they were led to a table. Moments later their waiter appeared and Rob ordered, again without looking at a menu.

"Do you have poached eggs?" she asked.

"Sure."

"I'd like two poached eggs on a plain toasted bagel with sliced tomatoes. Can you do that?"

"Absolutely."

"Try the hash brown casserole," Rob suggested.

"Okay. Hash brown casserole and a side of bacon, extra crisp. You don't have espresso, do you?"

"No sorry."

She slumped a little inside, knowing that was too much to hope for. "Coffee. Could I get a small glass of milk?"

"Absolutely. It'll be out in a few minutes," the waiter said as he gathered their menus.

Bae sat in silence. She didn't know why she felt so out of sorts. Part of it was the headache she had from being hungry, but part of it was something else.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

She looked up. "Yeah. Hungry, and I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Tell me about it," he grumbled.

She felt annoyance bubble up from him trying to guilt trip her. She wasn't making him sleep in the damn chair, especially since there were two beds. "You could have used the other bed," she said, trying to keep her annoyance out of her tone.

He shook his head. "No. I was right where I wanted to be."

"The chair couldn't have been very comfortable."

"Trust me, it wasn't."

"So why didn't you sleep in the other bed?"

"Because I was nervous last night."

"Nervous. Over what?"

"Afraid your brother would come calling."

She looked at the table, feeling slightly ashamed over her earlier thoughts. "You have to sleep sometime. I don't want you falling asleep behind the wheel. You do that and you'll do Kwang-hoon's job for him."

"Yeah, I know. I slept some. Maybe tonight, if the room has two beds."

She nodded as their coffee arrived. She doctored it, pouring milk out of the carton, and tried it. It wasn't espresso, but it was pretty good.

"I'm sorry about last night," she said, her voice soft. She never apologized for anything, but she felt she had to this morning.

He nodded. "Can we agree to try to get along? I'll accommodate you as much as I can, but my primary concern is keeping you safe. That may mean you having to do something you don't want to do sometimes."

He made her feel like a shit. Maybe she deserved to feel that way. "Yes."

He smiled. "Okay, good. That will make this trip a lot more pleasant... for both of us."

"I don't understand. Last night we had to eat in the room, but this morning..." she glanced around.

"If your brother knew where we were, he'd have tried to take us last night. Since he didn't, I think we should be good all the way to New York, with a little care."

"I hope you're right."

"How would you feel about a dinner out, someplace nice, tonight?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling again. He really did have a nice smile. "Assuming nothing spooks me, yeah. I'll even let you pick the place."

"You better be careful. You're being nice to me."

He sniffed out a brief laugh. "It must be the lack of sleep."

Their food arrived, and it was one of the best breakfasts she'd ever had. She didn't know if it was because the food was that good or because she was hungry enough to eat the plate it was served on, but when they were back on the interstate she was in a better mood than she'd been in since Lisa had been shot. For the first time since they'd escaped the gunman in the car, she felt reasonably safe. It didn't hurt that Rob was a hell of a lot more interesting to look at than those marshal bitches who kept her company in L.A.

"How did a Maine boy like you end up in New York?" she asked as the Chevy purred along the interstate.

"That's where I was assigned."

"Did you always want to be a marshal?"

He glanced at her before his eyes returned to the road. "Not really. I knew I always wanted to be a cop. I have a master's degree in criminal justice from the University of Maine. The FBI and the Marshals were both there recruiting during the last year of my bachelors. I applied, and the Marshals accepted me. I finished my masters at night."

"Not good enough for the FBI, huh?" she teased.

"No, they accepted me too."

"So why the marshals?"

He shrugged and grinned. "They had a better sales pitch."

I smiled with him. "How so?"

"When you start at the FBI, you're pretty low on the pole, doing background checks and stuff like that. With the Marshals, you hit the ground running. I hadn't completed my training a week before I was helping kick down some asshole's door to arrest him on a federal gun smuggling charge." He glanced at her again. "That's what I wanted to be doing, not making sure Mr. Tommy Toejam doesn't have a criminal record so he could go to work for the IRS."

"You like kicking down doors?"

"Not so much that, but I do like the feeling that I'm making a difference. I don't give a shit if someone was arrested for smoking weed in college, but taking a major gun dealer off the street? Yeah, I like doing stuff like that, and if that means kicking his door in, so be it."

"So what do you think of babysitting me?"

"Best assignment I've had in a while."

His answer surprised her. "Really? Why?"

"Because I feel like I'm doing good work. I'm keeping you safe and helping put another thug behind bars. I know he's your brother, but what's not to like?"

She looked out the window. What indeed? Rob was a good man. Better than most, she suspected, and certainly better than all the men that had been part of her life since she was child. He really seemed to care about someone other than himself.

As they put miles behind them, they talked about more inconsequential stuff until it was time to stop for lunch. "You want to pick the place for lunch?" he asked.

"You're letting me choose?" she responded.

"Sure... just pick someplace that won't take two hours. I want to make Fort Smith before we stop, and we still have a long way to go, but you need to decide quick because we're almost to Amarillo, and once we pass that, there's nothing until Oklahoma City... except McDonalds."

"Then I need to use your phone," she replied almost instantly, lifting it out of the cup holder where it was charging.

With a grin, he gave her the unlock code. She tried to find a Korean restaurant, but in the middle of Texas, she quickly realized she had a better chance of finding the end of a rainbow. After a few minutes of poking and swiping, she finally settled on the nearest thing, a place called Bangkok Restaurant and Lounge.

As she enjoyed Shrimp Pad Thai and he ate his Ginger Chicken, he talked to that Drew guy he'd spoken to several times before. She suspected Drew was his boss, and though it was hard to tell from hearing only his side of the conversation, it seemed they were still arguing over the best way to handle her. Rob was resolute in his refusal to put her on another airplane, which seemed to be what Drew wanted and thought was a good idea.

"Everything okay?" she asked softly when he put his phone down, his annoyance clear on his face.

"Yeah, great," he growled. "Even though the jopok came after you twice when you were booked on a flight, those dumb son-of-a-bitches back in New York want to try again." He shook his head. "Apparently Martinelli is screaming bloody murder because you're not already in New York. Fuck him. He'll be even more pissed off if you get killed and don't show up at all."

"Are you going to be in trouble?"

He held her gaze, his mouth hard. "Probably." He paused a moment. "It doesn't matter. I'll get you there safe and sound. If Martinelli has to wait a few extra days before he can start getting his name in the Times, tough shit."

"And you don't think flying..."

"Drew hasn't found the leak, so no, I don't think flying is a good idea." He paused as if considering. "Maybe if I bought the tickets myself, but if Han's getting his information from someone inside the airlines watching flights for my name... or yours..." He paused again, clearly thinking. "No. We're almost halfway now. I'd rather finish it in the car and be sure."

"Can we use different names?"

"Maybe, if it came down from the Marshal's office, but from me? They don't know me so there's no chance, but if we do use the Marshal's office, and the leak is there, then we're just as screwed. Until we know where the leak is..." He shook his head.

"What about your badge?" she asked. To her, his badge seemed like a magic talisman that could get anything done.

"It'll count for dick all. It might work for a gate agent, but for reserving a pair of tickets under an assumed name? More likely what'd happen is we'd be detained by airport security until they contacted the Marshal's office. The moment that happens we could pop up on Han's radar again." He held her gaze. "It's not worth the risk."

She grunted softly. Rob might be overreacting, but she knew firsthand the reach of the organization her father had built, and Rob's concerns weren't entirely baseless.

Rob's argument with his boss put a damper on the rest of their meal. His mood improved once they were back in the car, as if once he was moving again he came to peace with his decision to defy his supervisor.

They stopped at a motel just outside Fort Smith called the Muldrow Lodge in Muldrow, Oklahoma. It was a quaint little place that was tired but clean. She found it amusing that there was a sign stuck to the mirror asking guests to Please don't clean fish in the sink. At least the room had two beds.

Once they'd settled into their room, they went back out and had a delicious dinner of Mexican food, because she couldn't find anything better, before returning to their room. Rob was clearly spent, the stresses and lack of good sleep wearing on him.

"Why don't you sleep in the other bed tonight?" she suggested as he unlocked the door to their room.

He sighed. "I think I might. But first, I'm going to hop in the shower to wash the road off," he said as they entered the room.

She sat on the bed before flopping to her back as Rob bathed. Not including their stop for lunch, she'd been sitting in the car for nearly eleven hours. She stretched, luxuriating in finally being out of the Chevrolet. It was warm outside, but with the sun setting, it wasn't nearly as hot as the stifling heat of Arizona. She sat up and decided to take a walk. She wouldn't go far, maybe to the small pool, but she desperately wanted to move around a little and get some fresh air.

Since Rob had stopped holding her arm all the time, and they were eating real food in real restaurants, and now he was going to sleep in the bed, she decided he must be reasonably confident she was out of Kwang-hoon's reach. At least for the moment. She scribbled a note on the motel stationary, left it on the bed where he'd see it, and stepped outside.

She was strolling along in front of the twenty rooms that made up the motel, enjoying the evening and the quiet. They were far enough off the interstates she couldn't hear it, and there was no place in New York, or Los Angeles for that matter, that was so quiet. She'd walked to one end of the motel, turned, and was now walking back. It felt so good to move and work the stiffness out of her muscles.

"What's wrong with you?" a voice hissed as a strong hand gripped her arm. "Are you fucking stupid?"

She squeaked in surprise and tried to jerk her arm away before she realized it was Rob. "What?"

"What are you doing out here? Do you have a death wish?"

She could tell from his face he was furious. He was shirtless, shoeless, his fly was open, and she was pretty sure he wasn't wearing underwear. He'd obviously left the room in a hell of a hurry.

"I left you a note!"

"That's not the point! How the fuck am I supposed to keep you safe when you're out here wandering around?" He jerked her around and shoved her toward the room. "Get your ass back inside the room. I see I can't trust you."

She whirled on him. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" she snarled, forcing her voice low so they wouldn't attract attention.

He pushed her toward the room again before taking her arm. His push wasn't hard or rough, but it started her moving. "I'm the guy trying to keep you from being killed!" he snarled through clenched teeth. He opened the door and shoved her inside. "Do you want me to start handcuffing you to the fucking bed?"

She spun to face him. "You'd probably like that, wouldn't you? You get off on that power trip shit!"

"Goddammit, you just don't get it, do you?"

"You said yourself we were safe here! I stayed close to the motel!"

"I never said that!"

"You did too! At breakfast and again at lunch you said you were confident Kwang-hoon didn't know where we were! It's the reason you wouldn't put me on another flight!" she yelled.

"That doesn't mean you should go outside and make a target of yourself! Jesus Christ! What if I was wrong?"

"We'll you weren't, were you?"

He stared at her, the muscles in his jaws working. "From now on, you don't do anything without checking with me first!" he said, stabbing a finger at her.

"Fuck you!" she raged. "I'm not some little kkoma you can order around!"

"Then why don't you start acting like it instead of a spoiled little brat?"

She was so mad she couldn't see straight. She'd thought they'd made some progress yesterday and today, if she didn't count her showing her ass last night, but he was the same overbearing gaesaekki he'd always been. Without thought she drew back and slapped the shit out of him.