The Marshal Pt. 06

The kiss had been deep and passionate, and while it was nice, Lou wasn't Bae. He looked down in embarrassed. Before Bae, like every other guy in the office, he'd had a serious case of the hots for Lou. Because office romances were severely frowned upon, he'd never acted on it, but if she'd done that a year ago in this situation, he'd have taken her home and found out if she was as much a badass in bed as she was out of it. Now, however, he felt nothing but a deep sense of longing. Not for Lou, but for Bae.

After a moment he recovered and smiled. "That was a hell of a parting gift."

Lou grinned. "It wasn't for you, dumb ass. It was for me. I'd always wondered if you knew how to kiss."

A smiled danced over his lips. "Do I?"

"You were holding back, but I think you have possibilities," she teased. "I have to go. See you around, hot rod."

Hot rod? he asked himself. That was new. He looked to Michelle.

"Do I get a kiss goodbye too?" she asked softly.

"You want one?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes."

Where Lou's kiss had been overheated and aggressive, Michelle's was sweet and tender. She slowly pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes bright.

"How was that?" he murmured.

Like Lou, Michelle was sexy as hell, just in a different way. Also like Lou, Michelle's kiss made him long for Bae. If only he could contact her somehow and know that she was okay.

"Nice," she whispered. "I think you're going to be very happy in Maine."

Once again he saw the twinkle in her eyes. "Something's going on. What is it?"

She smiled and patted him gently on the chest. "Nothing that I know of."

"But you have a suspicion?"

"Not even that, but I'm hoping."

"For what?" he asked.

"When you get to Maine, call me."

"It's Bae, isn't it?" he asked, his heart suddenly thudding in his chest like a drum. "Britney Hadley is Bae."

She shook her head. "I honestly don't know. If I knew, I'd tell you, but I don't know anything. I'm just hoping for you. She loves you, and I think you love her. I'm keeping my fingers crossed."

He flushed hot. "She told you that?"

Michelle looked slightly sad. "No, but I can tell. Lou too."

His heart began to beat even harder. Bae loved him? He tried to reel in his emotions, but he couldn't, and he felt like he could fly. He looked down at Michelle.

"Stay. Have one last drink with me before you go, to wish me luck... with everything."

Michelle grinned. "Barkeep! Two more, on me! We're celebrating!"

Rob stepped off the plane in D.C. and made his way through the crowd. A woman was standing among others holding a sign with his last name on it. He stopped in front of her.

"I'm Cogburn."

"Melissa Guetlind. Most people call me Missy," she said, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you."

He took it, but he remembered this scene from his trip to L.A. "May I see your ID?"

"What? Oh! Sure! Here, hold this," she said, handing him the sign.

She pulled her wallet out of her purse and flipped it open. He looked it over closely. She wasn't a sworn officer, but her ID said she was part of the Marshal Service. He showed her his badge in return.

"Cogburn?" she said as she escorted him to a plain white Ford Explorer. "Isn't that the name of the marshal in True Grit?"

Rob went through this nearly every time he met someone for the first time if they were old enough to remember the movie. "That was Rooster Cogburn, and my name is Robert, or Rob as most people call me, but yeah."

"That is so cool!"

He wiped at his brow as they sat down in the Ford. She started it and the air conditioning was blessedly cool. He wanted to turn all the vents on himself, but it wouldn't make a good first impression to be greedy.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked as she drove.

"Sure."

"Britney Hadley. Is that Han Bo-bae?"

She glanced at him, giving nothing away. "I'm sorry, but we don't discuss our charges' former lives. You're new to this, aren't you? Didn't they cover that in the training?"

"Yes, but--"

"You need to understand, Deputy Marshal, that Britney has just spent the last almost five weeks forgetting her former life and becoming Britney Hadley. You'll be doing her a favor if you don't ask about, or discuss, her former life. That only delays the adjustment and could lead to her true identity being discovered."

He nodded. He'd know soon enough if Britney and Bae were one and the same, but Missy's advice made good sense. Even if Britney and Bae were the same person, he'd have to forget about her as Bae and start thinking of her as Britney... for her protection.

His heart began thudding again as Missy turned into the parking lot of a sizeable brick building set well back on a large, well-manicured lot. The sign on the front said Forsyth Security and Monitoring. He smiled. Clever. Robert Forsyth was the very first United States Marshal killed in the line of duty, way back in 1794.

Missy led him into a comfortable waiting area. "Wait here, Deputy Marshal. Ms. Hadley will join you in a moment."

He steeled himself. If Britney wasn't Bae, he wasn't going to show his disappointment. It wouldn't be her fault if she wasn't the woman he wanted to see more than anyone else on earth. He wandered around the room, looking at the artwork while he waited. His back was to the door when he heard the electronic lock release. He turned. Missy stepped through with Bae--Britney, he quickly corrected himself--in tow, a carry-on size suitcase in her hand. Britney's eyes widened at seeing him and she broke into a broad smile. It was all he could do not to smile in return.

"Ms. Hadley," Rob said, forcing his voice into polite neutrality. "I'm Deputy Marshal Cogburn, and I'll be escorting you to your new home in Bangor."

Someone had pulled some serious strings to make this happen, and he wasn't going to do one single thing to fuck it up. He held her gaze, willing her to not react. Her smile faded, reappeared, and faded again, but her eyes were bright.

"Nice to meet you, Marshal Cogburn," she said and then smiled broadly. "Say, isn't Marshal Cogburn the hero in that old John Wayne movie, True Grit? Rooster Cogburn wasn't it? You're name isn't Rooster, is it?"

She wasn't making it easy on him, but he managed to keep his smile to a minimum. "Yes, ma'am, you're correct that Rooster Cogburn was the marshal in True Grit, but I'm Robert... Rob. Are you ready?"

"You have no idea how ready I am to get to Maine."

Missy glanced back and forth between them. "Your flight isn't for three hours. Wouldn't you rather wait here?"

Bae--Britney, he reminded himself again--smiled at the woman. "No offense, Missy, but I'd rather wait at the airport with the marshal than hang around here. I've seen all of these walls I care to see."

Missy smiled. "I guess I can understand that. We have some paperwork to fill out and then I'll take you the airport."

Missy disappeared through the door. He didn't know how long she was going to be gone so he did nothing to give away that he knew Bae. It was a good thing too because Missy was back in less than thirty seconds with a clipboard. Rob took the clipboard from her, signed all the forms in all the indicated places, and handed it back. Britney Hadley was now his responsibility. Missy handed him his copies of the transfer orders and disappeared through the door again. Less than a minute later she appeared again with a large envelop in her hand.

"This is Ms. Hadley's packet," she said handing Rob the envelop.

He took it. "Thanks. I'll read it on the plane."

"Ready?" she asked.

"Allow me," Rod said, taking the suitcase from Britney.

She smiled up at me. "Thank you, Deputy Marshal."

Missy was in front of Rob and Britney with her back to them, leading them to the parking lot, so he winked at his charge. "My pleasure."

It was a cold, wet, dreary day, but nothing could bring Britney down. Today was May fifteenth. One year ago today, she'd met United States Deputy Marshal Robert Michael Cogburn in Los Angeles when he arrived to escort her back to New York. She finished cutting up the carrots and dropped them into the pot roast before glancing out the windows at the lake beyond. She never grew tired of the view.

When Missy had taken her to meet the marshal who would be overseeing her protection, it had taken every ounce of her self-control not to drop her suitcase and fling herself into Rob's arms. She didn't know how he'd done it, and hadn't cared, but she didn't want to ruin it by giving away she knew him. His formal introduction told her what was happening was on the sly, so she'd played along and gave no indication that they knew each other. She'd continued to play it straight until they arrived at the airport. As they waited for their flight, she found out he'd been desperately trying to contact her, but he'd had nothing to do with being assigned as her protection supervisor.

They sat well away from other people, not for security, but for privacy, and discussed in hushed voices all that had happened in the past couple of months. He made her cry when he confirmed that he had said he loved her, and though the Dulles airport wasn't exactly the most romantic spot in the world, she'd confessed her love for him in return. They agreed to take it slow, not only to make sure they weren't rushing into anything, but also because they were going to have to keep up appearances, at least for a little while.

Another marshal had met them at the Bangor airport and taken them to her apartment. Rob gave her another card with his number on it and told her to call him if she needed anything, then he left with the other marshal. She hadn't called, but five hours later there was a knock at her door. It was Rob.

She'd swung the door wide, dragged him into the small front room, and thrown herself into his arms. She'd bawled like a baby as he held her, so overwhelmed with joy she couldn't hold her tears. He'd held her until she stopped crying, and then took her to the bedroom.

She smiled in memory as she banged the spoon on the side of the pot. They'd spent the next three days getting her settled in. The Marshal Service would cover her expenses to get her set up, buying pots, pans, linens, and the like, but they bought nothing other than personal items. She finally had a cell phone of her own, and Rob loaned her his Bronco so she'd have some wheels. Two weeks after they arrived, he'd returned to New York and brought his belongings from his apartment in New York, most of which went into her apartment.

Three months after arriving in Bangor, she'd landed a job doing voiceover work for radio and television commercials. It was only part time, but combined with her small stipend from the marshals, she was doing okay. More than that, she had Rob back in her life. He spent Sunday through Thursday night in her bed in Bangor, and she spent Friday and Saturday night in his bed in his home on the lake.

Six months after arriving, when her initial lease was up, she didn't renew it, choosing to move into his house instead. This was her home now. He drove the hour to Bangor every day, and she went into Bangor once or twice a week to do her voiceovers. As summer became fall, and fall became winter, they'd spent many nights snuggled in front of a warm fire, often making love on the pile of overstuffed pillows as the snow fell in a soft blanket outside.

The people of Wurth were a bit confused at first by the sudden name change, but she'd kept a low profile during their previous three months together, and those that had met her were told that Bae Hawkins was her professional name. That seemed to satisfy them and slowly the questions stopped.

She glanced at the clock. Rob should be home any minute. She was freshly showered from working in the yard. In addition to mowing the grass, she had taken over the task of using the tractor to mow not only the areas that had been thinned of trees, but she was slowly working her way around the lake, cutting down brush and small trees. Rob had purchased another piece of equipment, a giant saw looking thing, that hooked onto the tractor that allowed her to cut down trees that were too big for the rough-cut mower, but small enough that she didn't have to worry about where and how the tree fell. It was easy, if dusty work, but she loved it, and her efforts sped the cleanup of the property by a huge amount. In only a few years they'd have all his land looking like a park.

Movement outside the window caught her attention, and she smiled. Rob had returned home from Bangor. Like normal, she couldn't wait the extra minute for him to enter the kitchen to see him, so she opened the door into the garage, watching as his Dodge crept to a stop beside her Subaru Outback. His Bronco had been banished to the barn to make room for her car, but he still drove it almost exclusively on the weekends.

He smiled as he stepped out of his marshal's car. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself," she purred in their ritualistic greeting.

He stepped into the kitchen and closed the door before he pulled her in for a kiss. In the last six months, that first kiss when he returned from work had evolved into the perfect combination of heat and tenderness. When she'd first arrived in Bangor as Britney, they were like rabbits, fucking all the time. Sometimes, when he came to her apartment for lunch, they'd skip eating and go straight to fucking instead. After moving to the lake, their love making had slowed. Instead of jumping on each other the moment he walked in the door, as they'd been doing at her apartment, they were making love only once, at bedtime on weeknights, though they often got in some extra tumbles on the weekends. While the frequency had decreased, the intensity had actually increased. Not seeing him for the entire day, and then waiting several hours until bedtime, made their lovemaking even more passionate. Between living in this beautiful house and having Rob in her life and in her bed, she was loving every second of every day. There wasn't a woman in the world who was happier than she was.

"Smells good," he murmured as he slowly pulled back from the kiss.

"We're having pot roast."

He sniffed. "Yeah, that smells good too."

She smiled. He made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. She'd do anything for him, and woe be unto the first woman who tried to poach him. She trusted him, trusted him more than any other person alive, but he was hers and she'd fight the devil herself for him.

"I got some news today," he said.

"What?"

"Kwang-hoon's appeal has been denied."

"Good."

Kwang-hoon had been convicted on all counts and received a sentence of 546 years, without the possibility of parole, in the Federal Correction Institution in Otisville, New York. He'd appealed the decision, but his conviction had been upheld. He'd appealed again, but now it appeared he was done. He'd never see sunlight as a free man again. Rob had told her a few months ago, after Kwang-hoon's sentence had been upheld, that her dad had tried to pick up the pieces, but his health was failing rapidly now. The Han crime organization was probably drawing its last breaths.

"You okay?" he asked.

She snuggled back into his chest. It wouldn't hurt the roast to simmer for a few more minutes. "Yeah, I guess."

"Do you need to talk to someone?"

"All I need is you."

He nodded and kissed her on the head. "I know it's probably hard, but--"

She cut him off with a splutter. "The only thing that's hard is Dad's dying and I can't see him. I hope Kwang-hoon rots in hell."

Rob's lips quirked into a smile. "Okay," he said, his tone communicating his mirth.

"In case you forgot, he tried to kill me. Several times."

"I haven't forgotten."

This time it was her turn to smile. "No, I guess you wouldn't." Rob was the only reason she was still alive to have this conversation.

He gave her another quick smooch and moved past her on his way to the bedroom to secure his weapon. She thought about following him and giving him a surprise fuck in celebration of Kwang-hoon's final defeat, but she turned to the stove and checked the doneness of the carrots instead. They were perfect.

He appeared a few moments later as she was dipping the potatoes and carrots into a bowl. She sat the bowl down next to the roast already on the table, and sighed softly to herself. Her life had changed so much in the past year. Here she was, the happy little homemaker, fixing dinner for her man, and pleased to do it. Two years ago, if anyone had suggested this was where she'd end up, she would have laughed her ass off at the suggestion.

As they ate, they talked about their days. She made no mention of the date. It was kind of silly that the date meant something to her. It wasn't like they were married and he was forgetting their anniversary.

Bangor wasn't like New York. The Bangor office wasn't nearly as large or busy as the New York office, and while in New York the SDM's rarely left the office, in Bangor, Rob had regular marshal duties to perform in additional to his supervisory duties. In a moment of complete honesty, when they'd first arrived in Maine, he'd expressed doubts about liking his new position, but after he'd settled in, he seemed content and happy. She was glad. She didn't want him to be unhappy with his job just so he could be with her.

She told him about her day on the tractor. She worked alone through the week, mowing, cutting trees, grinding out stumps, or cutting down brush and small trees. On the weekend he'd change the tractor over to the woodchipper and they'd shred the limbs and small trees, use his chainsaw to cut up and stack the larger trees she'd cut down, and then he'd attach one of the other implements to the tractor on Sunday evening so she could begin again on Monday. They weren't cutting the large tees because they had nowhere to stack the wood, but the property looked far better even without the thinning of the large trees. It was a system that worked. When she wasn't working in Bangor or volunteering at the library in Wurth, she was on the tractor or the lawnmower. It kept her busy, she enjoyed seeing the progress they were making on cleaning up the forest, and everything she did he didn't have to. That left more time for other, far more pleasant, activities. She also didn't mind that the work kept her tanned and fit.

After dinner he helped her clean up. Tonight, like normal, he always seemed to have to reach past her for some reason, briefly pressing his crotch into her ass as he reached around her. She didn't mind, and she damn sure didn't mind when he finished and stood behind her with his arms around her as he nuzzled her neck until she couldn't stand it anymore and turned for a proper kiss. She was beginning to enjoy cooking, but the cleaning up was usually even better.

It had started raining again and the house was a little chilly. "Start a fire?" she begged.

"Sure."

The house had regular heat, but they'd cut so much firewood it a problem to store it all, so that was what they used to warm the house. The fireplace was more than just decorative and was designed with a series of baffles in the heavy stone chimney to capture much of the heat before it escaped. She guessed it worked, but just seeing the flame as it popped and crackled in the large, four-sided fireplace made the house seem warmer.

After he had the fire going, they settled into the pillows. Since the weather had started warming up, it had been weeks since they'd made love in front of the fireplace. Maybe they'd have to do that tonight.

"You know what today is?" he asked.

She smiled. "Yes."

"What?"

"One year from the day you arrived in Los Angeles."