by MB Panichi
She noted the screens he watched had various views from inside the guest suite where Morgan Rahn stood at the window, staring out at the sunset skyline. Damn, she looks good.
He asked, “What’s she like?”
Shaine grinned. “You’d like her, Kyle.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “You’re whipped,” he accused.
She shrugged, unable to deny the obvious.
“When I see you up in the suite, I’ll kill the surveillance.”
Laughing, Shaine got to her feet. “Thanks, buddy.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ten minutes later, Shaine came to an oversized wooden door at the end of a long hallway. She palmed the lock, expecting she had been cleared to enter. The heavy door opened with a click, slid aside into the wall, and silently shut behind her when she passed into the entry foyer.
She stood a moment, her gaze scanning the room, reality and memory overlapping. The last time she’d been in the penthouse suite she’d been working low-level security, standing guard outside the door for one of Maruchek’s “less trustworthy” business associates.
She noted the décor hadn’t changed much. The entry foyer opened into an atrium with a high ceiling and a wide, domed skylight. Stylized imitations of ancient Italian frescoes covered the upper two-thirds of the walls. Swirled pink and cream marble tiles covered the floors and the bottom third of the walls. A single matching marble pedestal table rested at the center of the rotunda, supporting a heavy crystalline vase filled with heavily scented hyacinths, white roses, and tiny purple flowerets.
Beyond the foyer, the atrium opened into the main living room done in beige, cream, mauve and ivory. The bare tile gave way to plush white carpeting and overstuffed sofas and chairs. An ornate chandelier hung presumptuously from the center of the ceiling. Off the living room, heavy wooden doors opened to the bedrooms and a small library. A solid glass wall overlooked the jagged New York City skyline.
Shaine walked across the floor, her boot steps echoing on the tile.
Morgan sat on the sofa in the living room, facing away from the entrance, her head bowed so she looked down at her lap. Her dark hair contrasted with the lightly colored fabric.
Shaine felt her heart rate pick up. Morgan seemed so small and alone, sitting in the corner of the huge cream-colored sofa. She wondered what Maruchek had told Morgan when they were alone. She thought about the gut-level guess she’d made yesterday—that Morgan was Maruchek’s lost child. She was glad her intuition was still working, but the fact that Morgan was Maruchek’s kid made everything that much more difficult.
If Charun was truly behind the attempts on Morgan’s life, then Rogan was right when he’d said the only way to keep Morgan safe was to eliminate Charun. The man was sick at best—insanely dangerous at worst. The fact they’d never been able to pin Arella’s murder on him meant there would be no help from the authorities. She would be on her own. She felt angry that Rogan had decided to play games instead of just telling her up front what was happening. And she worried about how Morgan was going to deal with the situation.
She wondered for the hundredth time if she should have told Morgan what she’d suspected. But what if she had been wrong? Then she’d have freaked out Morgan for nothing. Damn. What if Maruchek hadn’t told her? Morgan had a right to know what was happening.
Then again, would Morgan even tell her what Maruchek had said? Morgan barely knew her. She barely knew Morgan. Rogan had called Morgan her girlfriend. Part of her scoffed at the idea. But she couldn’t deny either the physical attraction or the underlying and unexplainable something seeming to tie Morgan so tightly to her heart and mind.
Whatever happened, she knew in the core of her being she would, at the very least, remove this threat to Morgan’s life.
Shaine shook her head slowly. She was out of her mind. Would Morgan even trust her after all the intrigue and the lies? Would Morgan trust her when she found out she was going to assassinate Tyr Charun? Her thoughts turned dark. I can’t blame her if she just kicks my ass out of the room. She probably thinks I’ve somehow set her up, or knew she was being set up. Hell, she’s probably better off without me anyway. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the living room.
Morgan didn’t seem to notice her.
“Morgan?”
Slowly the dark head came up. Morgan half-turned, focusing haunted eyes on her. “Hey.”
Shaine perched on the arm of the sofa beside the woman. “You okay?”
Morgan shrugged, grimacing when the motion jostled her arm and back. “Not sure,” she said quietly, her hands clasped together as she leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.
Shaine wanted to slide down beside Morgan and put an arm around her, but instead remained a safe arm’s length away. “Did Maruchek tell you what’s going on?” she asked, careful to keep her voice even, not demanding and not prying.
Morgan shrugged. “Some of it. Most of it.” She looked down at her hands, playing with her mother’s ring. “It’s insane.”
Shaine nodded her agreement. Do I tell her what I know? Do I tell her I’m going to kill a man to keep her safe? Damn it. She pushed restlessly to her feet, pacing across the room to the windows. The lowering orange glow of the sunset backlit the dark city skyline.
She felt anger swell inside her again. She had been railroaded into this position. Not that she wouldn’t do anything in her power to keep Morgan alive and well. It was the principle of the thing. Rogan considered her an assassin. What would Morgan think, knowing she intended to kill a man in cold blood to save her life? She watched the flashing lights of a shuttle cross the sky. She was a killer. She didn’t want to be, but the training and instincts went bone deep.
Shaine paced back to the sofa, acutely aware of Morgan watching her with eyes the color of storm clouds. She wanted to wrap her arms around Morgan and make the hurt go away. Maybe holding Morgan would help make the pain in her chest go away, she thought. But she was afraid to invade Morgan’s space, not wanting to frighten her into bolting. How in the hell could she possibly explain what she had to do? How could she justify her work as an assassin to Morgan? Hell, she couldn’t even justify it to herself right now.
She found herself standing beside the sofa.
Morgan asked quietly, “What did Rogan tell you?”
Shaine shook her head and choked on a dry laugh. “Rogan told me if I wanted to keep you and me alive for any length of time, I need to eliminate a man named Tyr Charun.”
“Eliminate?”
“Eliminate. Kill. Terminate. Whatever you want to call it.”
“And you’re going to do it?”
“Yes.”
Morgan stared at her a second and looked away.
“Morgan?” Shaine ventured.
Morgan met her questioning gaze.
“I won’t let Tyr Charun hurt you. I will take him out if it’ll keep you safe.” Shaine swallowed, feeling the need to say more, but the words eluded her. Her heart pounded against her ribcage and made it hard to breathe. She took another step toward Morgan, but stopped when Morgan took a choking breath and closed her eyes.
“He’s my father,” Morgan whispered. “Maruchek’s my biological father.”
Shaine’s breath caught in her throat. Even though she’d known, Morgan’s admission came as a shock, and the pain behind the words hit her like a gut punch.
Morgan seemed to shrink into herself where she sat, her shoulders hunching as her head bowed. She shook with silent tears.
Shaine took two steps to reach Morgan’s side, sat beside her, and wrapped her arms around the weeping woman’s shoulders. When Morgan didn’t pull away, she tucked Morgan’s head against her chest and rubbed gentle circles on her back.
Morgan relaxed.
Tears soaked through her shirt’s light material. Shaine rocked gently and whispered into Morgan’s hair, “It’s gonna be okay, babe, it’ll be okay.”
But she didn’t know if anything real
ly would be okay and she didn’t know what else she could say. Her thoughts reeled. When they’d had dinner, Morgan talked about her parents and her life growing up on Moon Base and in the Belt, making it obvious how close she and her dad had gotten after her mom died. It had to be a mind-blowing shock to have her assumptions about who she was shot to hell and back. She held Morgan tightly and hoped her attempt to comfort was enough.
After a bit, Morgan spoke softly, as much to herself as to Shaine, whispering into her shoulder. She didn’t look up, didn’t shift away from the embrace, just spoke as though the words needed to come out. “Maruchek hid me away. He said he was afraid his enemies would get to me. His wife was killed—she was pregnant with me. The doctors saved me. My mom and dad, they were working in the Belt. Mom miscarried. Dad said Rogan asked them to take me.” She glanced up with wide eyes. “I called him,” she said. “I called my dad while I was in Maruchek’s office. They knew and they never told me. Dad said they always meant to tell me. They just never got around to it.” She dragged in a ragged breath. “Everyone thinks they’re doing the right thing, and I’m the one who ends up having to deal with all their damned secrets.”
Shaine ran gentle fingers through the feathery, fine black hair. “Your folks were better parents than Maruchek would have been.”
Morgan eased back and looked at her with a sad smile. “They were.”
Shaine nodded. She and Morgan sat quietly for a long time. She found herself staring at Morgan’s profile, truly seeing the resemblance between Morgan and Arella Maruchek. She finally shook her head. “Damn, Morgan, you really could be Arella’s double.”
Morgan shot her an alarmed look. “You knew?” she asked.
Shaine sighed. “I suspected after I talked to Rogan that first day. But I didn’t know and he didn’t tell me, and I didn’t want to make any assumptions.” She shrugged regretfully. “So I didn’t say anything to you.”
Morgan chewed her lip. “A heads-up might have been nice.”
“I’m sorry.”
Morgan absently traced her fingers along the line of Shaine’s collarbone, ending in a light touch on the soft fabric of her shirt. “I still don’t understand why this guy would want to kill me. Maruchek didn’t really talk about it.”
Shaine sat back in the soft cushions, keeping an arm around Morgan, who settled against her. “I’ll tell you as much as I know,” she offered. “Tyr Charun. He’s the owner and CEO of InterSys Enterprises. He’s a megalomaniacal nut job. Charun and Maruchek have been at each other’s throats for years, on a business and a personal level. Rogan and Maruchek have always suspected Charun of being behind Arella’s murder. The man was obsessed with Arella. Never forgave Maruchek for winning her heart. Never forgave her for not choosing him. Since you look so much like Arella, it seems he’s transferred his obsession to you.”
“That’s downright creepy.”
“I won’t argue.”
Morgan sighed, curled closer, and gave her a squeeze. The room fell silent a while before Morgan said, “Rogan doesn’t seem to like you much.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t appreciate that I developed a conscience.”
“I’m sorry you got dragged into all this crap. I know you don’t want to be involved.”
Shaine shrugged, managing a tight grin. “For you, Morgan, it’s worth it.”
Morgan protested, “You hardly even know me.”
Shaine’s grin broadened. She waited until Morgan met her gaze. “I know you well enough to know I want to keep you around to know you better,” she replied easily, lifting a suggestive brow.
Morgan managed a tired-looking smile. “Well, all in all, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have guarding my body,” she mumbled. Apparently realizing what had just come out of her mouth, she looked down, blushing all the way to her hairline.
Shaine grinned. “So, you hungry?”
“Um, sure.”
“Personally, I’m starved. Let’s use up some of Maruchek’s hospitality and enjoy a decent meal and some expensive beer on the house.”
Two good-sized steaks, a pile of thick-cut, skin-on fries, and a couple of dark beers later, Shaine and Morgan relaxed at the small table they’d positioned against the windows overlooking the interior gardens. The luxury of having real meat and fresh potatoes instead of processed protein and flash-frozen, ready-to-eat substitutes was a wonderful treat.
Morgan popped the tops of two more bottles of beer, and after passing one to Shaine, sipped contently at her own.
Shaine kept the conversation light through dinner. By mutual, unspoken agreement, neither she nor Morgan made mention of Maruchek, Rogan or the issues at hand. Eventually, they moved from the table to the comfort of the big sofa in the living room. Now she pulled the coffee table closer so she could put her feet up and tugged Morgan down next to her. She slid an arm around Morgan’s shoulders.
Morgan leaned close and put her feet up too, sighing as she sank into the cushions.
Shaine smiled. “Yeah, you know, I think—”
The door buzzed long and loud, as though someone leaned on the call button.
Morgan started to get up, but Shaine shook her head, motioning her to stay put. “I got it,” she said, swinging her feet to the floor and standing in a graceful motion. With a grim twist of her lips, she pulled the pistol from the holster at the small of her back.
Morgan’s eyes widened.
She shrugged. “From here on in, I’m not taking any chances,” she said flatly, starting toward the entry foyer.
The front door slid open before she got halfway to the marble atrium. A tall blond woman—Lissa Hedding—stepped through into the suite.
Shaine leveled her pistol. “Something I can help you with?”
Lissa stopped short with a frown. She wore a clean-cut, navy blue pantsuit with a close-fitting jacket. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. She glared at Shaine, nodding with distaste at the gun. “Is that really necessary, Wendt?” she demanded.
Shaine didn’t shift her aim, merely raised a brow. “I don’t know, Lissa. Is it?”
“No. It is not.”
Shaine waited a long second before flicking on the safety and lowering the gun. “Next time, wait until someone answers the door,” she snapped. “What do you want?”
Lissa nodded in the direction of the living room where Morgan stood behind the sofa. “I came to speak with Morgan,” she said, brushing dismissively past Shaine.
Shaine resisted the urge to body-slam the bitch to the floor and settled for simply glowering as she followed her old rival into the next room.
Lissa strode around the sofa, approaching Morgan with her hand outstretched, a wide smile on her face. “Ms. Rahn, I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Morgan pointedly shoved her hands in her pockets and just nodded.
Lissa ignored the slight and continued unperturbed. “Your father asked me to stop by and introduce myself. I’m Lissa Hedding, your father’s personal assistant. I want to assure you if there is anything you need, all you have to do is call my com.” She reached into her breast pocket and retrieved a clear plastic card, handing it to Morgan, who tucked it into a pants pocket without looking at it. Lissa went on, “Call anytime. If I’m not available, there will always be someone on staff who can help you.”
Morgan nodded. “Sure,” she said.
Shaine came around the side of the sofa, purposefully positioning herself a half-step in front of Morgan.
Lissa sent a dark look her way before returning her attention to Morgan. “Your father asked me to invite you to join him for breakfast tomorrow morning. I can send someone at eight o’clock to escort you.”
Shaine said, “I’ll bring her.”
Lissa’s expression turned almost gleeful. “Rogan said he’ll see you at oh-six-hundred, Wendt. So I’ll send someone.”
“Rogan can wait.”
“You assume too much,” Lissa snapped.
Shaine let her lips stretch into
a feral grin. “You assume I care. Was there anything else, Lissa?” she added sweetly.
The tall blonde squared her shoulders and turned a bright smile on Morgan. “I’m very glad to meet you, Morgan. Remember, if there’s anything you need, let me know.” With that, she turned and left. The door snicked shut behind her.
Shaine stalked to the door and spent about three minutes tapping command codes into the security panel before returning to the living room. “The only people who should be able to get through that door without you physically unlocking it and letting them in are you, me, Maruchek and Rogan,” she said.
Morgan nodded.
Shaine saw the unease in Morgan’s expression and wished she could take it away. But they were in this situation now and the only thing she could offer was to protect, and hopefully, to give Morgan the strength to keep moving forward. She let her practical commando persona slide to the forefront, pulled the pistol out of its holster and held the weapon in the palm of her hand. She turned a questioning look on Morgan. “Ever handled one of these before?” she asked.
Morgan shook her head. “No.”
Shaine nodded. “It’s okay, no issues. This is the easiest gun there is.” She shifted so she stood behind Morgan and wrapped her arms around her. She closed Morgan’s fingers around the pistol in a two-handed grip and moved Morgan’s first finger over a small catch just forward of the stock. “This is your safety. Off, you can shoot.” She guided Morgan’s finger. “On, the trigger is locked.” She felt Morgan stiffen. Aw, crap, I’m scaring the hell out of her. She took a breath and gently bumped the back of Morgan’s knee with hers. “Relax,” she teased.
Morgan glanced back at her. “Easy for you to say.”
For a second, Shaine leaned her head on Morgan’s shoulder. “I know,” she murmured. “I know. I’m sorry, Morgan. I really am. I just want you to be safe.”