The cat stew was nearly ready. Amanda entered the house to find a bowl and discovered she was nervous. She knew that Mac had her back, but she didn’t quite know what to expect from Marty. She made a short search for bowls in the kitchen and found several in a cabinet. She chose a few of them, grabbed a handful of spoons from a drawer, and took it all outside to better assess their condition. She set it all on the picnic table near the grill and turned her attention to the stew.
“What’re you cooking?” asked Marty, his voice deep and calm.
She spun quickly, her knife somehow in the hand that an instant ago had held the wooden spoon. Fifteen feet from her, he stood. His arms were held casually at his sides and a hunting knife was tucked into the leather sheath hanging from his belt.
Damn, he was good, she thought. She had known where he was a minute ago, but was surprised that he had slipped so close to her without her hearing him. He looked strong and handsome. His smile was disarming and he held his rifle relaxed in his right hand, his left hand now raised in supplication.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly. The easy smile never left his face.
“Well, you did!”
“Sorry. Would you put the knife away, please?”
“No, I won’t. What do you want?”
“I hope to hell a beautiful woman like you isn’t traveling alone,” said Marty.
“No, I’m not. See? A buncha bowls. Do the math. Who’re you?”
Amanda edged toward the house, as if seeking shelter. Marty delicately cut off an easy retreat.
“Name’s Marty McCullough. I was just passing through when I came across a beautiful woman cooking something on a grill. The grill works, huh? I’ll be damned.”
“What do you want, Marty McCullough?”
“Nothing, I guess. Unless you’d like to share some of that. Smells wonderful. I’ve smelled it for almost an hour.”
“Ahh…”
“I can give you some fresh venison to add if you want.”
“Me and my guys are doing okay all by ourselves, thank you.”
Marty glanced toward the house and then at Amanda. The bowls next to the grill concerned him for a second. At the same time, he was sure no one was in the house. He’d always valued his intuitive sense of whether someone was in a house. Any house. It was an uncanny skill but he was sure no one was there. He just knew is all. It had saved his life on several combat missions after the “all clear” signals of a breach. But he decided to explore his options.
“Well, let’s ask your guys about that.”
“Some are sleeping and some are huntin’ right now.”
“Yeah? Let’s wake up those that are sleeping.”
“They’d probably shoot you, if you do that.”
Marty edged toward the house and peeked quickly in the back patio door. He turned to face her.
“What’s your name?”
Amanda refused to answer. Her hands were shaking and Marty noticed. He spoke softly, as if to a skittish colt.
“Look, lovely lady, I asked you your name is all. I’m not here to hurt you. I promise. I swear. However I will admit, seeing such a beautiful woman as you has put me a bit off my game.”
Amanda stared at the handsome stranger and felt herself calming somewhat. She noticed he kept himself clean-shaven and put him at about twenty-seven to thirty years old. He was well muscled in the legs and shoulders, but not in an overpowering way.
“My name’s Amanda Abbington.”
Marty turned from examining the house.
“Well, Amanda Abbington, that’s a pretty name. It fits you.”
“Thanks.”
“Would you mind putting that knife away?”
“Yeah, I’d mind.”
“Suit yourself.” Marty leaned toward the patio doors and yelled into the house. “Hey! Guys! Wake the hell up, you have a visitor!” He faced Amanda again and she felt the impact of his amazing smile. It was an easy smile, emphasized by deep dimples. They stared at each other for a moment and then Marty yelled the same greeting again, receiving no response. “Okay, Amanda. I’m thinking your guys aren’t in there or never were, or they’re sound asleep. What do you think?”
“If I scream, I’d wake ’em up.”
“Well, go on and do so. I’d like to sit down for some lunch. That is, if I’m invited.”
Marty took a few steps toward Amanda. She instantly prepared for his assault, assuming the combat knife stance Connor had taught to her.
“Whoa, hold on there Amanda. Hmm… how ’bout that… you might know something about a knife fight.”
“Stay back, mister!”
“Hey listen! I can see you’re skittish and I’m pretty sure there’s no one in there, so I thought I’d just try to place you more at ease.”
“Stay back!
CHAPTER 2.8-A Judgment Call
Connor tensed his finger on the M-4 trigger as Marty approached Amanda. Her knife was drawn and Connor realized she was nervous. She had a reason to be—Marty was quite capable of taking her knife from her without breaking a sweat. Marty adjusted smoothly to her movements with a level of expertise well above Amanda’s capabilities. Connor waited for Amanda’s signal, running her fingers through her hair, but she had yet to make this movement. Concerned, he began to second-guess his decision to place her in such a precarious position. He considered pulling the trigger and ending Marty, with or without Amanda’s signal.
CHAPTER 2.9-The Decksweeper
“Hold on, Amanda,” said Marty. His initial combat-trained response to her fighting stance needed to change. He took a conciliatory attitude—he rested his rifle next to the bench, near Amanda. Slowly, he removed the knife from his thigh sheath with two fingers and tossed it near the rifle. He backed away and sat down at the opposite end of the bench. He was beyond the range of disarming Amanda and he felt quite naked without his rifle despite the Colt Defender he had hidden in the small of his back. He removed his ball cap and wiped his hand through his long blond hair. Smiling, he folded his hands together, and waited for her next move.
“I’m disarmed, Amanda. It’s your move.”
She relaxed visibly, her shoulders releasing tension and her jaw unclenching. She found it easy to imagine Marty as a blue-eyed surfer boy, simply waiting for the next wave.
“What do you want, Marty?”
“Having lunch with a beautiful woman would make my week—no, it would make my whole month. You know, I have beans and corn in my backpack—it could be the perfect addition to that wonderful stew you’re cooking. It’s stashed over there by that tree.”
“Are you for real?” asked Amanda.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re not just going to try to rape me?”
“No.”
“You know, lull me into a false sense of security so you can get your hands on me?”
“No.”
“Why not? Many have tried.”
“It’d be too easy, Amanda. Besides, I’m not like that. I’ve always liked my women to ask me. Somehow, it always made it better.”
“Is that right?”
“It’s the way I like it.”
“Yeah, I bet you like it when women fall all over you, is that it?”
Marty’s only response was to smile, but the smile held memories of past lovers. Amanda responded with a slight grin of her own. Damn, his smile was infectious. She rubbed her left hand on her thigh with exaggerated slowness and stood across the table, facing him. After a few moments, she sat down and Marty stared intensely.
“Damn, you’re a beautiful woman.”
“Thanks, but I’m accounted for.”
“So you say. By who? One of your imaginary group?”
“No.”
“Who then?”