Chapter 6: Persistent

Tim had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a pair of aviators protecting his eyes from the late day sun. A black Explorer rolled to a stop in front of him. The driver surprised him. Neither Raylan nor Rachel was behind the wheel. Instead, the witness, one Miss Darla Jenkins, laid claim to that position, and Tim realized that the case file photos didn't do her justice.

Rachel stepped from the passenger seat and smiled at him. "Welcome aboard."

He returned the gesture. The rear hatch opened. He tossed his stuff inside. When he came back for seating arrangements, he found Rachel behind the controls and Raylan riding shotgun. He slid into the back with the witness.

"Tim Gutterson," he said, extending his hand.

"Darla Jenkins," she said, accepting his offer. "But you knew that already."

"Something like that," he said with a half smile.

"So Art thinks we need a sharpshooter on this call," Raylan said.

"He thinks it wouldn't hurt," Tim said. He hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms, so the crack didn't hurt his feelings. "What's happened since we last spoke?"

"Not much," Rachel said.

"Anymore sightings of the Chrysler?" he asked.

"We lost them," Raylan said.

"Or he switched cars," Tim countered.

"No one else has followed us," Darla said. When Tim looked at her, she added, "Sorry. Didn't mean to butt in."

"No, I—"

"She's got a good eye," Raylan cut in. "Damn fine driver, too."

Tim noticed the woman smile. The Givens charm at work, he thought.

"Art called about the credit card," Rachel added. "It was one of those prepaid cards. They're hell to trace, but he's calling in favors to find out what he can."

"That's something," he said.

A low hum filled the cabin. They all checked their phones, except Darla because she didn't have one. Tim's had nothing so he put it back in his pocket. He heard an unladylike grunt come from Rachel as she glanced at her phone, pushed a button, and shoved it back inside her jacket pocket.

Tim knew his coworker well enough not to question that move, so he shifted on the seat to look behind them. The interstate was filling up with rush hour traffic. So far, he hadn't spotted a Sebring, but that didn't mean the SOB wasn't still out there.

From behind the dark round lenses, he felt her gaze on him. He'd done his share of witness transports, so he'd seen all kinds. The chatterboxes annoyed him the most. The femme fatales were next. Okay, maybe they were tied with the blubbering messes. This one, with her dark sunglasses, full kissable lips and keen observation skills had him intrigued and three sentences hadn't passed between them. Art would have his ass if he acted on his impulse and of the three Marshals on detail, Gutterson was proud to say that he was in the top two to not have that affliction.

No, he thought. Pretty and capable were a good start, but he was there to keep her safe. He'd keep that in mind if necessary.

R&R

Raylan knew that he'd come close to crossing over into asshole territory with Gutterson, but he didn't care. What he cared about was the tension in Rachel's shoulders and the taut line of her jaw. She'd been extremely focused since the song spooked Darla. Not that she wasn't focused now, sitting so prim, proper, and delectably untouchable at the wheel, but something was fucking with her.

Then her phone vibrated and the vibe coming from her escalated.

"Is that Nobody again?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Rather persistent."

"He likes the pursuit."

"You okay?"

Rachel smiled at him. "I'm fine, Raylan."

That smile, false at reassurances at it was, could do him in. It was how her cheeks curved and her full lips parted to reveal perfect white teeth. Yeah, she was fine indeed.

"We have options," she was saying.

"Options?" he repeated, pushing his hat from his head.

She did that half-smile thing again and commented that he hadn't heard any of the conversation with Tim. He noted the lack of accusation in her tone. The undercurrent of tease was hard to ignore, though.

"What did I miss?"

"Several cars have been on us since Amarillo," Tim said. "Rush hour makes it hard to tell if we're being paranoid. Rachel was saying that we have options."

"Which are?" Raylan asked.

"Taking a detour," she said. "We're on a straight route. If we have a tail, it's easy to find us on this interstate."

"Take the two eighty-seven south up ahead. We can head down to Wichita Falls."

"That's off course a ways," Tim replied.

"Sure is," Raylan replied.

A few hours later, they reached the Texas town. They stopped for gas and a restroom break. When everyone climbed back into the SUV, Tim took over as driver and Raylan rode in the back with Darla. He'd been considering methods of keeping her safe. One thought kept coming to mind, but he'd need the other Marshals to agree. Hell, he wasn't sure if it would work. One thing he was sure was that even with the detour he couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone.

"You're awfully quiet, Cowboy." Darla watched him closely. "Where to next?"

"It's getting late," Rachel said. "We should stop soon."

"Are you tired?" Tim asked.

"I am," Darla answered.

"We'll hole up somewhere tonight," Raylan said.

"Hole up," Darla repeated with a smirk.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

She laughed. "You really are a cowboy."

"Not quite," he said.

She'd been wound up and pensive for hours. Making her laugh at his expense hadn't cost him a thing and it kept his mind off the glances Tim kept tossing Rachel's way. Hell, he should have called shotgun, but he'd ridden down in the passenger seat and not trading off would have been a dick move. Besides, if he were smart, he'd accept that from his view in the back, he could scope out the Tim/Rachel angle better. He had never considered that the reason for her marriage going to hell could be none other than Tim Gutterson. His gut told him no, but the little green-eyed- monster riding his back warned that he could be wrong about that.

R&R

The GPS led them to a suite hotel suitable to their needs due south of the 287. They opted for a suite with two queen-sized beds and a sofa. It also had a kitchenette. Tim and Raylan left to case the building and to pick up take-out. Meanwhile, Rachel secured Darla in the room.

As the night before, Darla donned shorts and t-shirt and began her workout routine. Rachel checked her weapons and tried not to intrude. She stood at the window. Twilight offered an interesting view of the horizon. Streetlights were flickering on and the parking lot lighting filled in where the sunlight had faded. Wichita Falls was a new location to pin on her map. The little poster was filling up.

A short while later, Darla finished the workout and showered. When she returned, she opened a packet of decaf coffee and started a pot. While the coffee brewed, she seemed headed for the table where Rachel sat. Since the proximity was too close to the window for Rachel's peace of mind, she shook her head and pointed away. Darla nodded and smiled. She sat cross-legged on the bed nearest the window and ran a hand through her short curls.

"Does it always get this complicated?" Darla asked.

Rachel frowned. "This isn't complicated."

"No?" The other woman didn't sound convinced.

"No," Rachel assured her. "Everything we're doing now is a precaution. You're safe. We will keep you that way."

The aroma of coffee filled the room. Both inhaled. Darla rose and poured a cup. She offered to do the same for Rachel, but she declined. Tonight could be a long one. Decaf wouldn't help with that.

"What's going on with the guy blowing up your phone?" Darla wrapped her hands around the cup as she looked at Rachel expectedly. "Look, I'm nosy and I'm trying hard not to be scared-"

Rachel raised a hand to stop her. Hell, she was a little surprised that Darla had figured it out.

"It's my husband."

"Really?" Darla sipped coffee. "I didn't see that coming."

"Why because I'm a Marshal?"

"No, not because of the Marshal thing," she said. "Hubby's worried because you're guarding me?"

Rachel snorted. "Not exactly."

"Just the possessive sort?" Darla shrugged. "I get that. You're on the road with one hottie and then another shows up—"

"Wait, we're coworkers—"

"I'm not suggesting otherwise." Darla placed the mug on the nightstand and slid back against the headboard. "We humans are strange beings. I keep thinking about the decisions that led me here…to this room…to the scars on my back…to having to sit on a witness stand and pray that everything turns out right in the end."

Rachel didn't offer the usual assurances of protection post-trial. She got the feeling that Darla didn't need that. The other woman needed something else. Maybe she simply needed to talk.

"I can only imagine what this case reads like on paper. You get assigned to get me back to Lexington and so you read the particulars, but there's more, you know."

"I know," Rachel said. "We don't always go in with prejudgments coloring our protection."

Darla stared at the wall and her voice was just above a whisper. "Nik's interest scared me a little at first. I didn't know how to take it."

"How do you mean?" This interested Rachel. None of this appeared in the folder.

"He'd pick a table right in the center and listen to me sing. Every night. No matter where I was playing."

"Was this on Beale Street?"

"Yeah, it started in Memphis and he followed me to Nashville."

"Did he approach you?" Rachel glanced from the window to see Darla's reaction.

"Not at first. He'd just listen. Clap. Leave enormous tips and leave. Then he started sending gifts. Finally he waited for me after the show."

"Did you know who he was?"

Darla shook her head. "Not then. Just thought he was some crazy white boy with loot and a thing for sistas. Of course, I was feeling the bad boy vibe in spades. I should have run, but it was too late."

"You're a sucker for bad boys." Rachel swallowed the bitter taste of hypocrisy that rose in her throat at voicing the question. She'd acquired a taste for bad boys of late. She certainly couldn't begrudge Darla for the same, but in all fairness to Raylan, he wasn't a gangster. Just that his methods for keeping the law had their own rhythm.

"No," Darla said. "Hell no. I was a sucker for a man who loved me. I guess you met hubby at Ole Miss and it was love at first."

"You're half right," Rachel said. "We met at Ole Miss. He played football and I was his tutor. Love didn't happen at first sight, I assure you. He had to learn how to pursue. He was used to girls chasing him."

"You made him work for it?"

Rachel grinned. "I made him work."

Her phone chose then to vibrate.

"Persistent," Darla said.

Rachel felt her chest tighten, but she managed a faint smile. She pulled the phone out and read the ID. It was her mom on the other end.

"Hi. I'm still on the road. Is everything okay? How's the little man?"

"We're fine. I'm sorry…"

"Mama, what are you talking about?"

"Joe! He was going on about how he was worried about you. I probably shouldn't have, but he was so persistent. I just…"

"You just what?"

"I told him you were going to LA," her mother said. "I'm sorry if he's been bothering you. Now, that I've thought about it, I know I shouldn't have. He didn't sound right."

R&R

Raylan lingered outside longer than needed. The hotel was as safe as it could be. He just needed a few extra minutes alone to figure out how to keep his head together with Tim and Rachel in the same room all night. On the professional side, if shit went down, the three of them could handle it. Regarding personal issues—he didn't want to go there anymore. He headed back to their suite, eager to decide who'd get which bed, first watch and whether Gutterson had returned with the grub.

The shell-shocked look on Rachel's face surprised him. She tried to go blank when he came fully into the room, but she wasn't fast enough. He closed and locked the door upon his entry. Ever observant, he noticed Darla dressed in a Lakers jersey and boxer shorts, sitting on the edge of the bed. The aroma of coffee and floral bath gel hung in the air.

"Hey," Darla said, breaking the quiet. "No food, huh?"

He lifted his empty hands. "'Fraid not. Tim's taking care of it."

She nodded. She glanced at Rachel who was busy gathering her bag and heading toward the bath. Once she was slammed shut inside, Raylan turned to the witness.

"What's up?" he asked, jutting a chin toward the closed door.

"I don't know if I should say," she hedged.

"Nobody called again." He shrugged out of his jacket and tugged his shirttails from his jeans. "Did she answer?"

"No, it was her Mama this time."

Raylan cocked an eyebrow at that statement. So Darla had a clue to the Nobody reference? What did the two women converse about in his absence? The giggling and smirking from the first leg of the trip let him know that Miss Jenkins was no fool. She was hip to him. What else did she have knowledge of?

"Is everything okay at home?" When she looked ready to protest, Raylan sighed. "Look, I'm trying to help."

"I know," she said. Seconds passed before she added more. Then she joined him, careful of not standing in front of the glass. She mostly stood to his side but near enough to whisper. "Something happened with her mom, but I don't know what. I can't help you there."

"Is she sick?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Any mention of the nephew?" Raylan knew Rachel would have his ass if she got wind of this interrogation, but that look on her face was not the Rachel Brooks he knew. He needed background before he approached her.

Darla said, "No, nothing like that."

The bathroom door creaked. Darla's eyes widened. Raylan briefly touched her arm. "You're safe."

She smiled. "Thanks."

Rachel emerged just as Darla returned to her position on the bed, looking as if she hadn't moved. Raylan watched his fellow Marshal store her bag in the closet space near the door. Her face looked fresh, clean and free of make-up. She had pulled it back into another ponytail, which only served to accentuate her flawless complexion. She'd changed from her crisp professional uniform of slacks, blouse, and jacket and now wore a t-shirt and jeans. He missed the cute little shorts from the night before, but the jeans weren't bad either.

"Where the hell did Tim go?" she asked.

"He sent me a text. Our order was next. He should be back in about five or ten minutes."

She shrugged at Darla. "Sorry."

"I'll lay here and quietly starve," the other woman said. "No problem."

Rachel laughed, but Raylan could hear the force behind it.

"So, there are the bed and sofa arrangements to work out," Rachel said, claiming a chair at the table near Raylan.

"We're not waiting for Tim?" he asked. He tried to hold in his laughter, but failed miserably.

"Nope. I'm hungry and he's not back with the food."

"Y'all are cold," Darla said from the bed, her voice muffled by a pillow, as she giggled.

"We're hungry," Raylan countered. He closed the curtains and sat beside Rachel. "I like the way you think. We could flip for it."

"For the bed?" she asked.

Nodding, he pulled a quarter from his pocket and placed it on the table.

She grabbed it and tossed it the air. She caught the quarter and slapped it onto the back of her hand. "Call it."

"Heads."

She peeked, but wouldn't let him see. A cute grin parted her lips and lit up her brown eyes. Raylan couldn't stop his heart from racing. He reached for her hand.

"Let me see."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Not when it comes to that bed," he said. He pried her hands apart, but he didn't have to exert too much effort. She was a willing participant in their game.

"Tails," he muttered.

Both women laughed.

"Sofa, it is." He went over took off his boots and sat. To his surprise, Rachel joined him.

"This may not be anything," she said quietly and suddenly serious.

"I'm listening."

"My mom called."

He nodded. That she was coming to him willingly stunned him. He sensed saying too much would make her go silent.

"Darla told you this, didn't she?" Rachel questioned, eyes narrowed.

"Um…" he stammered.

"I told him that much," Darla said, sitting up to admit her part. "I didn't know more than that."

"You are nosy," Rachel said.

"I never denied it," Darla said. She burrowed back under the covers and covered her head.

"She was just trying to help," Raylan offered. "Are you okay? What's going on with your mom?"

"She called about Joe."

Various shades of red danced before Raylan's eyes. He itched to grab his sidearm, but willed himself to remain still and focused on Rachel. "Don't tell me he made a move on your mama."

"He didn't. He worried her until she told him about this detail. She never knows the full route, but she knew I was flying out to LA and it would take me a few days to get back to Lexington." Rachel drew her knees to her chest and hugged tight, hiding her face in the denim. "I never should have told her, but I hate for her to worry."

Without pause to consider repercussions or the dangers of crossing invisible lines, Raylan puts his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. When she didn't flinch or move away, he started rubbing her back and massaging the base of her neck. Her flesh was hard knots of tension that begged for his attention. She needed this as much as he needed to do it.

"It's not the end of the world. Did she tell him who we're guarding?"

"No, I never tell her that only where I'll be." She raised her head to look at him. "That's classified, Raylan…"

"Okay, okay," he said, continuing to rub and marvel that she hadn't stopped him from doing so. "What else?"

"He's changed. I hadn't seen it or wanted to, but Mama hit it," she said with the hint of a soft moan trailing at the end when his fingers dug into a certain spot. "Calling me all the time and now badgering my mom… He's different."

The faint moan had nearly thrown Raylan off course. He pulled himself back in to hear what she hadn't said. That her soon-to-be ex could be as much of a threat as the mobster family that was after Darla.

Instead of one beautiful woman who required protection, there were now two.

[A/N: Thanks for reading, following, and reviewing! I appreciate it especially considering the major flub in the earlier chapters. It took THREE viewings of "Long in the Tooth" for me to catch it. ARGH! My only excuse is that when I got hooked on Justified, I watched the entire 4 seasons in less than 3 weeks. Specific details got jammed together in my head. Now that I'm rewatching the series and yes, I saw that episode twice in less than a week, it was the third time I watched it that I caught the location. So THANKS to those of you who have been kind enough to keep reading despite that major flub. You are wonderful.

Gypsy: Thanks for being a longtime reader! I look forward to hearing from you. Other guests: Thank you, too! Registered readers: you'll get a reply. I may be slow, but you'll get one.

Storywise: The Marshal's hands are now very full with both women as potential targets. But never fear! Raylan has a plan…if the other Marshals will go for it.]