Morgan's Hunter Page 8

Hunter kept Morgan in sight as he started up the trail after her but gave them both their distance.

  CHAPTER 10

  WITH THE PACE MORGAN KEPT on the hike back, she made it to the ranger’s station in record time. Both pickup trucks were missing from the parking lot. Good. She wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation with her new housemates. She needed a few minutes to herself—desperately.

  Morgan stepped onto the small porch and glanced over her shoulder. Hunter’s long strides closed the distance quickly. She was tempted to shut the door and lock it, but he would just find a way in.

  Instead of indulging in petty satisfaction, she walked to the bedroom for her shower gear. The tension that vanished while she sat in the clearing was back with a vengeance, squeezing at her aching shoulder blades.

  God, he was such a jerk. She knew Hunter had it in him, but she’d never realized he could be cruel. Why did he have to go and kiss her like that? He’d taken her breath away, confused her, hurt her—all for a lesson, a game. Well, score one for Bodyguard Phillips. He won that round.

  She said nothing as he followed her to the room. She gathered her tote and fresh clothes, turned to leave and stopped short, almost running into him. He held her gaze as she tried to move around him. He grabbed her arm at the door, and she waited for him to say something, anything. His eyes searched hers in humming silence.

  Morgan yanked, trying to pull free. “Let me go.”

  He looked at her a moment longer before letting her pass.

  The plumbing in the bathroom hummed and clacked moments before water hit the tiny shower stall. When Hunter was certain Morgan stood under the spray, he headed into the ranger’s office and called L.A. “Cooke, it’s Phillips. What did you come up with?”

  “You have a meeting with Darren. He flew into Montana a couple of days ago to see what he could dig up.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. What time?” Hunter leafed through paperwork, hoping to find a report on the deaths of Morgan’s team.

  “Four o’clock in Merkly. How’s it going? She still giving you a hard time?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” Hunter opened a drawer, searched through files next.

  “I’ve gotta admit, I envy you, man. If I had the wilderness skills you do, I would’ve taken the assignment myself. I can think of worse ways to spend a month. Sharing a tent with centerfold material doesn’t sound too bad to me. You’re a lucky bastard, Phillips, one lucky bastard.”

  “I’ll try to remember that the next time she aims for my balls.” He closed the drawer and hung up while Ethan laughed in his ear.

  Hunter glanced at his watch, calculating the drive time from the station to Merkly. He would have to ditch Morgan for awhile. After his initial meet and greet with Robert and Miles, he was interested to see what the PI on Ethan’s payroll found.

  Hunter searched the second desk—as with the first, he found nothing. He stood, licked his lips and tasted Morgan. His stomach fisted into knots as his mind wandered back to the way her curvy body felt pressed under his. Running a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath and picked up the phone.

  He punched in Sarah’s number, needing to hear her voice. Her easy friendship always settled him.

  Refreshed and steadier, Morgan opened the bathroom door in comfy jeans and a gray scoop neck t-shirt. Thoughts of work crowded her mind until snatches of Hunter’s one-sided conversation registered. He sounded different somehow—more relaxed and happy.

  Curious, Morgan walked past the bedrooms, down the hall toward the office. She stopped just shy of entering the room.

  “Yeah, put her on. Hey, baby girl, how are you? You almost have it. You’re so close, it’s Uncle Hunter,” he over enunciated. “Oh, did you play at the park? Ducks, yes.”

  Hunter made a quacking sound, and Morgan’s eyes widened with surprise. She peeked around the corner, saw him grinning while he looked out the window. Sun blazed into his eyes, making the brilliant blue more shocking. He chuckled and her heart stuttered as she nibbled her lower lip.

  “All right, baby girl, give the phone to Mommy. Love you. Sarah, are you sure you two are okay? Ethan’s checking on you? I’m trying. I’ll talk to you soon. If you need anything…” He grinned again. “I know. I love you.”

  Who was this man? Hunter sounded so kind, so gentle. Morgan suddenly and desperately envied the woman on the other end. His unexpected sweetness tugged at her, pulling until she was helpless against it.

  She felt herself softening, knew nothing good could come from it. If she were smart, she would sprint in the opposite direction.

  Hunter moved to the desk, hung up, and turned. His gaze met hers; his smile disappeared. Morgan watched the warmth vanish from his eyes. Her chin rose slightly, automatically, before she walked to the bedroom, trying to shrug off the unexpected hurt of his cool reaction.

  She had a job to do, reports to write. Who cared what he thought anyway.

  An hour later, Hunter stood in the bedroom door. Morgan sat on the mattress closest to the wall with her back against the paneled wood. Her laptop rested on her crossed, outstretched legs. She stared down at the papers next to her, typing rapidly while she muttered to herself.

  “Knock knock.”

  She glanced up, eyes unfocused in her concentration. “What?”

  “We need to go out for awhile.”

  “No, we don’t.” She returned her gaze to the laptop. “I’ve got stuff to do. If you need to leave, go ahead.”

  He stepped inside the room. “Come on, Morgan, I don’t have time for this.”

  She stopped typing again. “I have reports to finish before we can head into backcountry. I wasn’t planning on hiking the trails anymore today. Your ‘memorable lesson’ did the trick. Nice work, champ. I’ll be a good little girl and won’t leave my room, promise.”

  He swore as he rubbed his hands over his face. “Damn it, Morgan, you are the most unbelievably stubborn person I’ve ever met. I have somewhere to be, and you have to come. That’s how this works, remember? I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.”

  “I have an idea. You do what you need to, and I’ll stay here and do the same. We’ll pretend you did your job. Hell, I’ll even sign off saying you were with me the entire time. No one has to know. I’m safe, completely free of danger. I’m in the ranger’s station, for God’s sake.” She turned the page in her notebook with a snap and got back to her work. “See you later.” She took her hand off the keyboard long enough to wave in dismissal.

  He didn’t move. “That’s data for the animal you need to track, right?”

  She let out a frustrated breath. “Yes, among other things. Now go away. I can’t concentrate with you hovering over me.”

  Hunter ripped the papers off the bed. “You want these back, you’ll get your ass up and get ready to leave. I have an appointment in an hour and we’re going to be there.”

  Morgan crawled over the beds and stood. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you just leave me alone? You don’t care about me or my safety. Just get out of here. Get in the damn car, go away, and don’t come back.”

  “You’re my job, Morgan, my responsibility. I get paid to keep you safe, to pretend to give a shit. If you don’t like that, talk to your father. Unfortunately, we’re stuck with each other for the next month, so deal with it.”

  Something moved through her eyes as she glanced away. He closed his, blew out a breath. “Okay, that was a little harsh. I—”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re right. I apologize. I keep forgetting you’re as stuck with me as I am with you. I’m giving you my word that from this point forward, I’ll cooperate with you, fully. It’ll make things smoother all the way around. The sooner I track and tag these animals, the faster we can get the hell out of here.” She grabbed her purse and jacket and walked to the door. “Let’s go. You’re going to be late.”

  They arrived in Merkly forty minutes later. The small, tidy town of ten thousand bustled with its own rendition
of rush hour. Main Street was a hot bed of action as pickups stopped at traffic lights in front of refurbished brick buildings that had been built in the early nineteen hundreds.

  “I’m meeting my pal in there.” Hunter pointed to the busy diner across the street. He spotted the PI sitting in a booth by the window, sipping coffee and talking to a waitress.

  “Fine, I’ll browse the bookstore right next door, or I can take a different table in the restaurant if you’d rather.”

  “No, go ahead and get yourself a book, but don’t go anywhere else.”

  Morgan got out, shut her door. “If I’m finished before your meeting’s over, I’ll come sit here.” She gestured to a wrought iron bench shaded by a tree close to the vehicle.

  Hunter nodded. He’d be able to see her exit the bookstore and would have full view of her from the diner window. “I shouldn’t be too long. Do you want me to grab you anything to eat?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine.” Her voice lacked its normal enthusiasm and fire.

  Hunter walked her across the street.

  Morgan opened the door to the pretty little shop and stepped inside. Her eyes met his briefly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  He watched her walk to a stack of books and browse the selection.

  On their silent drive to Merkly, Hunter realized he’d hurt her. He hadn’t meant to—didn’t know he could—but she’d pissed him the hell off. She was very good at that. Letting out a deep breath, he walked to the next door and let himself into the diner.

  CHAPTER 11

  HUNTER SCRUTINIZED THE CRIME SCENE photos of Morgan’s team. “I just can’t believe they don’t have anything. How can that be?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Darren Norwell shrugged as he took a bite of his apple pie ala mode. “They were out in the middle of nowhere. There were no witnesses, no signs of struggle.”

  “It doesn’t add up, though. The woman, Shelly—” Hunter tapped the picture showcasing Shelly’s grisly wound and blank, staring eyes. “She turned on her GPS out of the blue. She knew she was in trouble, so why didn’t she radio in to the rangers?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know, but from what I’ve been able to find out, it doesn’t seem like the boys in blue are working all that hard to figure this case out.”

  Hunter flipped to the next picture. “And doesn’t that seem off to you? These people were biologists working on a project for the federal government. You’d think this would be top priority at the local level. Did you run the names of the rangers Ethan gave you?”

  “Yeah, they came up clean. The Robert character has an armed forces background. He’s decorated. Apparently he’s an expert tracker and quite handy with a gun. The kid’s from up north of here. He’s a couple years removed from college and clean as a whistle.”

  Hunter glanced at Darren. “You know what they say about whistles. They’re not that clean.”

  “Well, according to the law and anything else I could find, he’s your average boy next door.”

  Hunter shook his head. “Something feels off. Not quite right. I don’t know what it is yet, but I got a bad vibe. I want to take these pictures with me and the police reports, look them over again. How did you get this stuff?”

  Darren smiled. His gray beady eyes almost disappeared in the folds of his fleshy face. “Trade secrets, my friend, trade secrets.”

  Hunter opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as he watched Morgan exit the bookstore, cross the street, and sit on the bench by the large shade tree. She peeled a banana, took a bite, opened her book. A light breeze played with her silky brown locks. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “That your assignment?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus, look at her.”

  Hunter narrowed his eyes at the blatant lust in his colleague’s. “Should we get you another napkin to wipe the drool from your chin?”

  Darren’s gaze darted to Hunter’s. “Well, well, well.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  Darren smiled. “Not a thing.” He took a last bite of pie, stood. “I should probably head out. Don’t want to miss my flight. I’ll see you back in L.A., Phillips.”

  Morgan glanced up as someone approached.

  With a file folder in hand, Hunter walked toward her. She studied his smooth, confident strides and begrudgingly admitted he was simply spectacular. A lock of blond hair fell loose against his forehead before he swiped it back. His black t-shirt fit over his muscled torso like a second skin. Her gaze wandered down, noting the small grass stain on the knee of his jeans from where he’d tackled her like a damn linebacker.

  Surges of pleasure careened through her system as she thought of his firm mouth on hers, of his bold tongue diving deep and tangling with hers. Blowing out a quiet breath, she stared down at her book, desperately trying to rein in her revving hormones.

  Hunter stopped in front of her. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  She dog-eared her page and hoped she appeared unaffected as she stood. “Let’s go then. I have a lot of work to do.”

  They walked side-by-side until they reached the car. Hunter frowned, placed the folder on the trunk, bent down to examine one of the tires. “Looks like the air’s getting a little low. We’ll have to put some in when we stop for gas.” He moved along to the next tire, pushing against the rubber with his thumbs.

  “Let’s make it fast. I want to get back to the station. I figure we can be in backcountry by the end of the week if I get all of my paperwork finished in the next day or two and submitted to the Bureau. The red tape of working between dual agencies is unbelievable.” As she spoke, she picked up the folder, opened it. “I’m eager to…”

  She caught sight of the photograph of Shelly, dropped the folder as if it scalded her. Pictures scattered on the pavement. Morgan stared in horror, stunned, unable to look away from the gruesome images of her friends in death.

  Shelly’s eyes were open and staring. A single drop of blood had run from her forehead into her hair. She couldn’t tell if Ian’s or Tom’s eyes were opened or closed. The exit wounds at the top of their heads had left a mess.

  Some of the pictures were close-ups; others had all three bodies lined up, capturing the entire crime scene. Shelly had fallen straight back from the lethal blast of the bullet. Her head bent unnaturally, dangling over her pack. Her long blond hair lay matted with blood and dirt in the pine needles on the ground.

  Ian and Tom lay face down in dark red pools of their own dried blood and tissue. Their heads were turned just enough to see that there wasn’t much left of the faces she once knew. The horrid images intermingled with the life and vitality she remembered on Ian’s handsome face. His roguish grin flashed through her mind and the sharp stab of pain slashed her heart.

  The last picture broke her. Tom’s bifocals, spattered with blood, lay next to a bright yellow evidence tag. The thick glass had been shattered in one lens while the other lay untouched. She could see Tom pushing the same pair of black framed glasses up the bridge of his nose as vividly as she saw the pictures in front of her. How many times had she watched him do that, never thinking anything of it?

  Oh, God. Look what someone had done to her friends.

  Morgan tried to speak, but all she managed was a barely audible sound in her constricted throat.

  Hunter stood after checking the second tire, turned at the quick blast of car horn. He saluted Darren as he drove off in the busy flow of traffic. “Sorry about that. You’re eager to what?”

  She knew Hunter had spoken, but couldn’t find her words. Morgan was helpless to do more than stare at the ground.

  “Morgan, what…” He took a step forward. “Shit, why did you get in my stuff?” He knelt down and picked up the pictures quickly.

  “I-I thought…” Unable to hold back the churning nausea, she ran to the trash barrel by the bench, stumbling once on unsteady legs.

  Hunter threw the folder in the backseat, walked to her wit
h the bottle of water she’d set down on the trunk.

  Morgan gripped the sides of the barrel, taking deep breaths while her stomach heaved.

  “Here, take a drink.” Hunter held the water out to her.

  She continued to grip the trashcan.

  He brought the water to her lips. “Take a sip, Morgan. Get the taste out of your mouth.”

  She did as she was told, spitting the first mouthful into the trash, swallowing the second, easing her raw throat.

  “Sit down before you fall. You’re sheet-white and glassy-eyed.”

  Morgan dropped to the bench, sitting until the sickness passed. She stared at the cracks in the blacktop. “I thought those were the papers you took from me. I was going to read them over on our drive back.”

  He knelt down in front of her, taking her hand. “It’s okay. I’m sorry you had to see that. Do you feel like you’re going to get sick again?”

  She shook her head, never taking her eyes from the ground, too sick at heart to care that she’d just barfed in front of Hunter.

  Hunter pulled her to her feet and put an arm around her shoulders. She gave in, sagging against him, taking the support he was willing to offer as he guided her to the car.

  As they made their way back to the station, Morgan sat silently, clutching her elbows, watching the pine trees rush by the window. Somehow the forty minute drive had gone by in what seemed like an instant.

  “We’re here, Morgan. Let’s get you to the cabin.”

  Hunter startled her out of her deep thoughts. She tore her eyes from the passenger window, met his gaze, nodded.

  “You still look a little shaky. Do you want me to carry you?”

  Surprised he would offer, she gave him a small smile. “No, I can walk, but thank you.”

  The short hike back to the station felt like a major climb. For a moment Morgan wished she’d given in and let Hunter carry her. Her legs trembled as she fought a fog that tried to overtake her racing mind. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The crisp air and stunning scenery she’d enjoyed hours before no longer held any charm.