Free The Bride Wore A Forty-Four by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

glass.
    He shoved her through first, then followed,
and then they were on the ground and running. She imagined the men
were already in the bedroom before they got five yards from the
window, but there was no time to look back, no way to judge whether
the trees they'd put between them were dense enough to hide them.
No way to know for sure whether the men were in pursuit.
    Beside her, Michael ran, his gait uneven,
breathing labored. He clutched the wounded hand to his side as he
ran, and she knew he was hurting.
    "This way," he said.
    "That way's the lake."
    "I know. They won't be looking there. Come
on."
    She trusted him, had no idea what he had in
mind, but she trusted him. She always had. He would never let her
down the way her father had.
    Kira stopped running. What the hell was that
supposed to mean? The way her father had?
    Michael tugged her hand. "Come on, almost
there."
    "Yeah." She shook off the thought the memory,
filed it away to be mulled over later, when they were safe.
    They emerged from the trees near the
glistening lake's gently sloping shore. A boat rested there, far
from the cabin, and she wondered if this was yet another of
Michael's ingenious escape plans.
    He grabbed the bow and shoved the boat into
the water. "Get in," he told her.
    "You get in. And don't waste time arguing,
I'm not the one with a hole in my hand."
    He got in. She shoved the boat farther into
the water, then she climbed into the boat with him, gripping the
oars, dipping them into the water, and pushing them farther, both
from the shore and from the house. Michael placed a cell phone call
to someone, naming a meeting spot and a time. Rescue, Kira thought,
was at hand.
    "Easy" he said when he finished the call.
"Don't row too fast. And try to stay low. Get us around that bend
in the shoreline where we can't be seen from the cabin, and then
we'll make for the far side."
    She nodded, and followed his instructions,
even while delivering a few of her own. "Rip that shirt up, and
bandage your hand. Your face is a mess, too. You need stitches,
Michael."
    "Yeah, and probably a tetanus shot."
    She shook her head. "You had one of those
summer before last, when that lowlife Farentino jabbed you in the
ass with that dirty meat hook."
    She looked up slowly. He did, too. "You
remember that?"
    She nodded. "I remember...more and more.
Little things, but entire incidents, instead of just snippets."
    "What kinds of things?"
    She shrugged.
    "Tell me. I really want to know." He looked
around them. "Besides, they haven't seen us. We got nothing but
time now." He began tearing the shirt into strips and bandaging his
wounded hand.
    Drawing a breath, she nodded. "Okay."
    The rowboat drifted on its own, slowly but
steadily toward the far shore. She pulled the oars out of the
water, let them rest in the bottom of the boat, upper ends held in
the oarlocks. "Mostly, I remember things about us. Our wedding,
that came back to me clearly. And then...well, just us. Together.
Fighting, dodging bullets, laughing..." She averted her eyes before
she went on. "Making love."
    He was staring at her. She felt his eyes on
her face, and chanced a look up. His eyes were warm, caring. "It's
okay," he said. "Don't be embarrassed. If you knew how hard it's
been for me not to just tell you..." He reached out, cupping her
cheek in his palm. "That you remember us, God, Kira, that means a
lot."
    She covered his hand with hers. "To me, too.
I mean, for you to keep quiet, for my sake, even though it meant
watching me make plans to marry another man—" She frowned then.
"But that engagement to Peter—it was never real, was it? I was
playing him, it was a cover."
    He nodded. "The marriage wouldn't have been
legit The license wasn't for real to begin with, and the plan was
for the troops to move in at the reception, when all Peter's
contacts would have been in one place. I never would have let it go
too far, Kira."
    "But how could you know? I mean...I could
have slept with him, and