Two Alone

“And I don’t give a damn.” He inched even closer. “Let’s give them something to speculate about.” He curled his hand around her throat and placed his thumb beneath her chin to tilt it up.

Then he kissed her unsparingly. He took what he wanted and gave more than she would have had the audacity to ask for. Nor was he in any hurry. His tongue plumbed her mouth slowly and deliciously in a purely sexual rhythm.

When he finally pulled away, he growled, “I want to kiss you like that all over, but,” he shot a look in the direction of their astounded observers, “that’ll have to wait.”

They were driven back to the airport, but Rusty never remembered leaving the motel. Cooper’s kiss had entranced her.

The hours of the afternoon dragged on forever. They were catered another meal. Rusty ordered an enormous chef’s salad. She was starved for cold, crisp, fresh vegetables, but found that she could only eat half of it.

Her lack of appetite was partially due to the breakfast she’d eaten only hours before, but mostly to her anxiety over the interrogation she and Cooper were put through regarding the deaths of Quinn and Reuben Gawrylow.

A court reporter was brought in to take down Cooper’s testimony. He told how they had met the two recluses, were given shelter by them, promised rescue, and then were attacked. “Our lives were in danger,” he said. “I had no choice. It was self-defense.”

Rusty gauged the reactions of the policemen and saw that they weren’t convinced. They murmured among themselves and kept casting suspicious glances toward Cooper. They began asking him about his stint in Vietnam and brought up the fact that he was a former POW. They asked him to recount the events leading to his escape from the prison camp. He refused, saying that it had no bearing on this issue.

“But you were forced to...to...”

“Kill?” Cooper asked with ruthless candor. “Yes. I killed a lot of them on my way out of there. And I’d do it again.”

Telling looks were exchanged. Someone coughed uncomfortably.

“He’s leaving out a vital point,” Rusty said abruptly. Every eye in the room turned to her.

“Rusty, no,” he said. His eyes speared into hers in a silent plea for caution and discretion. “You don’t have to.”

She looked back at him lovingly. “Yes, I do. You’re trying to spare me. I appreciate it. But I can’t let them think you killed those two men without strong motivation.” She faced her listeners. “They, the Gawrylows, were going to kill Cooper and...and keep me.”

Shock registered on the faces encircling the table where she was seated with Cooper. “How do you know that, Ms. Carlson?”

“She just knows it, okay? You might suspect me of lying, but you have no reason to think she is.”

Rusty laid a restraining hand on Cooper’s arm. “The older one, Quinn, attacked me.” In plain language, she told them what Gawrylow had done to her that morning in the cabin. “My leg was still seriously injured. I was virtually helpless. Cooper returned just in time to prevent a rape. Gawrylow reached for a gun. If Cooper hadn’t acted when and how he did, he would have been killed instead of Gawrylow. And I would still be at the old man’s mercy.”

She exchanged a long stare of understanding with Cooper. She had never deliberately inflamed the hermits. He had known that all along. He silently asked her to forgive him his insults and she silently asked him to forgive her for ever being afraid of him.

Cooper’s hand splayed wide over the top of her head and moved it to his chest. His arms wrapped around her. Ignoring everybody else in the room, they held each other tight, rocking slightly back and forth.

Half an hour later, Cooper was relieved of all legal responsibility for the deaths of the Gawrylows. Facing them now was their meeting with the victims’ families. The weeping, somber group was led into the office. For nearly an hour Rusty and Cooper spoke with them and provided what information they could. The bereaved derived some comfort from the fact that their loved ones had died immediately and without having suffered. They tearfully thanked the survivors for sharing their knowledge about the crash. It was a moving experience for everyone involved.

The meeting with the media was something altogether different. When Rusty and Cooper were escorted into the large room that had been set up for the press conference, they were greeted by a restless crowd. A pall of tobacco smoke obscured the ceiling.

Seated behind a table with microphones, they answered the barrage of questions as thoroughly, but as concisely, as possible. Some of the questions were silly, some were intelligent, and some were painfully personal. When one gauche reporter asked what it was like to share a cabin with a total stranger, Cooper turned to one of the officials and said, “That’s it. Get Rusty out of here.”

The bureaucrat didn’t move fast enough to suit him. Taking it upon himself to remove Rusty from the carnival atmosphere, he slipped his arm beneath hers and assisted her out of her chair. As they made their way toward the exit, a man came rushing up and shoved a business card into Cooper’s face. It identified him as a reporter for a newsmagazine. He offered them an enormous sum of money for exclusive rights to their story.

“But if that’s not enough,” he stammered hastily when Cooper glared at him with icy malevolence, “we’ll up the ante. I don’t suppose you took any pictures, did you?”

Emitting a feral growl, Cooper pushed the reporter aside and told him what he could do with his magazine, using descriptive words that couldn’t be misunderstood.

By the time they were boarded onto the L.A.-bound jet, Rusty was so exhausted she could barely walk. Her right leg was aching. Cooper had to practically carry her aboard. He buckled her into her first-class seat next to the window and took the aisle seat beside her. He asked the flight attendant to bring a snifter of brandy immediately.

“Aren’t you having any?” Rusty asked after taking a few fiery and restorative sips.

He shook his head. “I’ve sworn off the booze for a while.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight smile.

“You’re very handsome, Mr. Landry,” she remarked softly, gazing up at him as though seeing him for the first time.

He removed the snifter from her listless fingers. “That’s the brandy talking.”