by Cate Beauman
A smile ghosted her mouth as she remembered their last night together—the music, the laughter, the fun. Shelly, Ian, and Tom had been so carefree, so alive. If only she had known. Her smile vanished as pictures of their violent deaths circled through her mind, replacing the good memories of an evening that seemed so long ago.
Her fault. She would never forget that three people died as a result of her poor planning. How many times over the last few weeks had she damned herself for not changing the teams? Why did she let Ian talk her out of it? Physically, Shelly and Tom had been the weakest of the crew and the terrain of Yellowstone so much more difficult than Maine.
What if they’d had to run for their lives? Shelly and Tom had never been very fast, and Ian never would’ve left them behind. Had they fought and struggled only to lose in the end? Would physical strength have made the difference?
She would never know, but she’d followed along with rash decisions, fully aware that the crew that went to Yellowstone never should’ve been there in the first place. And now she could do nothing more than find their killer or killers. She owed them.
Nothing was going to stop her—not fear, not her father, and definitely not Hunter.
She would stay, even if it meant she stayed alone.
CHAPTER 14
A COOL FRONT MOVED THROUGH THE mountains during the last mile of their hike. Dark, heavy clouds and gusting winds promised a strong afternoon storm. Morgan opened the door to the station as the sky rumbled with thunder and the first fat drops of rain hit the ground.
When she and Hunter made it inside, she closed the door, stepped over to the large picture window and peered out into the storm-darkened forest. Weariness and worry consumed her, weighing heavy on her shoulders. With a small shudder she turned. Hunter stared at her, measuring.
“He’s gone. He didn’t follow us back.” Hunter walked to their room, stopped short at the door.
Morgan crept up behind him. “What are you…”
Hunter put a finger to his lips as he pushed her behind him. He moved forward, forcing the door open with a powerful kick. Wood slammed against the paneled wall with a loud crack.
The room was empty.
Morgan rushed in after him. He shut the door behind her, secured the lock.
“Hunter, what in the hell are you doing? What is your problem?”
With brows furrowed and lips pressed tight in a thin line, he glanced around the room. “Our door was open. I closed it before we left.”
“Maybe you thought you did.”
His eyes stopped scanning and locked on hers. “I know I shut it.”
Why was he making this into such a big deal? “It was barely cracked. I’m sure the wind caught it or something.”
“Yeah, or something.” Hunter took his suitcase from the closet and rifled through his clothing. “Boot up the computer and search your history. What’s on there?”
“Why?”
“Just do it.” He turned his on as well. “Look through your stuff. Is anything missing? Has anything been tampered with?”
Morgan pressed the power button on her laptop, glimpsed over her shoulder at the suitcases. Everything looked exactly as it had when they left this morning. “Is this another one of your ‘memorable lessons’?” She glared, hands on hips, as he spared her a glance. “I don’t know why you’re trying to scare me. I already told you I’m not going back to D.C.”
“I got that point loud and clear.”
“Are you suggesting someone broke into the station?”
“No, I’m telling you someone went through our stuff while we were gone.”
Frowning, Morgan scrutinized their space. Everything was in its place. “Give me a break,” she said without much conviction.
Doubt trickled through at Hunter’s look. The rigid set of his body and his humorless blue eyes certainly didn’t give her the impression he was joking. “I’m not kidding.”
“How can you tell? Nothing seems disturbed. I know someone followed us, but I think it’s a bit of a stretch to think they came here first. They wouldn’t’ve had enough time to do both.”
Hunter looked back at his computer. “Just trust me on this one.”
Morgan picked up her laptop, hit a couple of keys, accessing her security settings. She remembered the kiss he’d planted on her lips after he tackled her to the ground by the southwest trail—in the name of teaching her a lesson. His methods of proving his points left her unwilling to give in. “I think you’re being paranoid. I think...” A flashing red box popped up on her screen, alerting her to a failed log-in attempt. Her heart hammered in her chest. A loud blast of thunder shook the station, making her jump.
“Not so paranoid after all, huh?”
Morgan hadn’t missed the smug tone. “How-how did you know?”
“I get paid to know.”
“No, really, how could you tell? I’m looking around and everything seems the same.”
“I set my things up in a certain way so I can tell if anyone touches them. I always leave my stuff flush against the wall, creating a ninety-degree angle. The suitcase is now at eighty-five. The apple on my computer faced the other way when I powered it down before we left.”
“Oh,” she said lamely as she stared at his carry-on. “We should tell Robert and Miles. They might want to check their stuff too.”
“No, we aren’t going to say anything about any of this.”
Someone knocked on the bedroom door and Morgan jumped again. Hunter stood to answer. “Not a word.” He opened the door to a smiling Miles.
“Hey, I wanted to make sure you two made it back. That’s a pretty crazy storm out there.”
Morgan joined Hunter at the door. She gave Miles a warm smile. “We did. It’s certainly a loud one.” Thunder clapped as she spoke. She laughed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling when Mother Nature followed her cue.
Without warning, Hunter put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close. She slid him a glance when his fingers caressed her shoulder in long, slow strokes, sending shockwaves of need through her body.
Miles glanced from Hunter to Morgan, cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re back safely. I’m on supper duty tonight. We usually eat around six if that works for you.”
Morgan pulled away from Hunter’s hold, fighting to steady herself. “It works just fine. Can I help out?”
“I’ll never turn down an extra hand.” He winked, grinned. “What do you say we get started in an hour?”
She smiled again. “Perfect.”
Miles walked off with a spring in his step.
Morgan closed the door with a snap. “What was that?”
Hunter wandered to the computer, sat down on the bed, staring at her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “What was what?”
“You know.” She gestured wildly with fluttering hands. “Why did you put your arm around me that way, as if you and I were…involved?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
“You didn’t like the way he looked at me.” She put her hand on her hip. “And just how was he looking at me?”
Hunter’s eyes fixed on the laptop, held there. “Like he wanted to take a bite out of you. What kind of information do you store on this thing anyway? I’m trying to figure out what someone would want to access.” He pressed keys rapidly, breaking through her security systems within seconds.
She yanked the laptop from his hands, slammed the top closed, tossed it on the bed. “Forget the damn computer. Miles was being perfectly polite, and you were, once again, incredibly rude. We simply talked about dinner. What signal was he giving off, Bodyguard Phillips, that led you to believe I was somehow in need of your ‘protection’ at that moment in time?”
Hunter sneered as he shook his head. “He was mentally undressing you while you talked about the weather. Hell, Morgan, you were about to lose your panties before dinner even made its way into the conversation.”
Outrage left her st
aring. “You’re despicable and crude, but that’s beside the point. Who do you think you are? You don’t get to make decisions about my personal life. If Miles is looking at me as if he wants to take a bite out of me—” she emphasized with exaggerated air quotes “—that’s his choice. If I want him to take a bite out of me, that’s mine.” She turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t be around you right now without wanting to hurt you. I’m going to help Miles with supper. We’ll eat early. You’ve got a hell of a nerve, Hunter, one hell of a nerve.”
She left the room without a backwards glance.
Morgan and Miles’s happy chatter drifted back to the bedroom while Hunter stared at the computer screen he opened again after she left. The rain drummed on the roof but failed to drown out Morgan’s laughter. The smoke and velvet sound had his stomach clenching, his fists bunching at his sides.
When he had all he could take, he strolled down the hall to the kitchen. During the half hour he spent alone, Hunter had time to think about what she’d said, knew she was right, and didn’t like it.
He stepped in the doorway, narrowed his eyes when Miles touched Morgan’s hips as he brushed behind her to get to the refrigerator. The kitchen was small but not that small. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling while Miles passed. She turned, met Hunter’s stare. Her smile vanished. She looked down and put freshly rolled meatballs in hot olive oil.
Robert walked through the front door with water dripping from his bright yellow slicker. “That’s one hell of a storm out there. Miles, we’ll have to check roads for washout later.”
“Great. That’s just how I want to spend the evening. Morgan and I are making spaghetti and meatballs.”
Robert’s gaze passed over Hunter before he gave Morgan a smile. “I look forward to it—smells great. We’ll have a hearty meal before we head out into this bitch of a storm.” He winced. “Begging your pardon, Morgan.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Robert.” She dried her clean hands, walked over to Hunter with plates and silverware. She shoved them into his arms with more force than necessary. “Set the table for us, honey.”
His brows drew together as she walked away and smiled at Miles again. Oh, they were going to talk about this later.
Fifteen minutes later, they sat around the table with plates full of pasta and meatballs, garlic bread and salad.
Robert took a big bite of meatball and spaghetti dripping in sauce. “This is delicious, Morgan, absolutely delicious. Where’d you learn to cook?”
Miles waved his hand. “Hey, I helped too.”
“You don’t cook like this.”
Morgan chuckled as she looked from Robert to Miles. “You were a wonderful assistant. Actually, I learned from my mother. She’s amazing in the kitchen. She started teaching me when I was a little girl.”
Miles glanced at Morgan before taking a sip of his Sprite. “Maybe I could get a couple of lessons before you leave.”
“I’d be happy to give you a lesson or two.”
Morgan’s gaze met Hunter’s. His eyes smoldered into hers as he chewed a bite of salad.
Still miffed and unconcerned with his mood, she turned her attention back to Miles. “Just think of a few dishes you’d like to learn and we’ll find some time. It’ll have to be in the next couple of days or at the end of the month before I head back to D.C. We’ll be going into backcountry soon.”
Robert wiped his mouth with his napkin. “This morning you weren’t sure where you would go. Did your hike give you any ideas?”
“The last documented tracks were found north of here. I imagine we’ll continue in that direction; perhaps we’ll go northwest.”
“Hmm, northwest. I would think you might want to try south of the location.”
She cut her meatball in half, in half again before she rolled spaghetti on her fork. “You think so? I just figured that since the lynx typically come down from Canada, north would be the most logical choice. Although we did look north today and I didn’t see anything. It couldn’t hurt to go south of the tracks.” She shrugged. “They’re such an elusive species. I’m pretty much flying blind here.”
“It’ll certainly be a difficult animal to tag.” Robert put his fork down. “This really was delicious, Morgan. I hate leaving the mess behind.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hunter and I’ll get it.” She flicked a glance at Hunter as his brow shot up. He hadn’t said a word during the entire meal. “Riding around in the pouring rain sounds like a miserable task.”
“It is, but it has to be done. We’ll be awhile. I can’t imagine we’ll be back before you’re asleep.” Robert brought his plate to the sink with Miles following behind.
On their way out, Miles stopped in front of Morgan’s chair, took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening. I’m eagerly anticipating my next cooking lesson.”
Morgan didn’t dare look at Hunter as she gently pulled her hand free. “I had fun too. Goodnight. Be safe out there.”
Morgan stood, gathering dirty dishes from the table when the door closed behind Miles and Robert. In an attempt to drown out the tense, uncomfortable quiet, she turned on the small FM radio on the counter and fiddled with the dial until she found the one station that played Top 40 music instead of country.
She hummed along with The Script as the sink filled with hot water and lemon scented soap. Plunging her hands in, Morgan began to scrub. Hunter grabbed a towel, took the dripping plates she handed him, dried them in stony silence. She was shocked he stuck around to help, was even more surprised when he had nothing to say about Miles kissing her hand. She expected some sort of pithy comment.
It seemed he would rather stand inches away and brood in his pissy mood. Apparently Hunter didn’t like being put in his place.
When the kitchen was spotless, Morgan headed toward the bedroom, congratulating herself on finally putting him there—until she thought of the way Miles looked at her as he left. She gnawed on her bottom lip as guilt swamped her for leading him on. She wasn’t attracted to him or interested in anything more than friendship, but it had been important to send her point home to Hunter.
He’d had no right. He didn’t run that part of her life. She would cooperate for safety’s sake, but she’d be damned if he would have a say in her personal life.
She didn’t know how she would handle things with Hunter—she never did—but she could make everything right with Miles by giving him a couple of cooking lessons.
Conscience clear, Morgan gathered her items for a quick shower. A relaxing night with a good book was just how she planned to end this long, tense day. She glanced at the small curtained window in their room, hating that having Hunter close by on this dark, rainy night comforted more than annoyed. She still had the willies thinking that someone had watched them.
When Morgan was clean and refreshed, she went back to the bedroom, anticipating her warm bed and the new bestseller she brought along. She looked forward to getting lost in a good novel and the problems of the characters for a while and forgetting her own.
Her pleasure dimmed when Hunter lay on his side of the bed, reading, with the covers up to his waist. He wasn’t wearing a shirt again. She couldn’t help but stare at his chiseled torso and wonder what it would be like to run her hands along all of that smooth, golden skin. She felt the tug low in her belly, let out a quiet sigh as she closed the bedroom door behind her for the night.
Hunter glanced up from his book. “Squeaky clean, honey?” Eyes hard and scathing traveled down her body, back up, locking with hers.
Suddenly self-conscious in her black tank top and tiny white boxer shorts, Morgan pushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear and nervously licked her lips. Recognizing his mocking tone for what it was, she glared at him, turned away.
Morgan put her bathroom tote on the floor, hung her towel on the peg, bent down for her book. She’d be damned if he would spoil her night.
When sh
e turned, she slammed into Hunter’s naked chest, gasped. Her hand flew to her heart as she backed up a step. “God, you scared me. Why are you always doing that?” Looking into his eyes, challenging, she tried to maneuver around him but he wouldn’t move. “Excuse me. I’d like to get by.”
He gripped her shoulders, walked her back until she touched the wall. Her book fell to the floor with a solid thump.
“Let go of me,” she said weakly. Her heart began to pound, but it wasn’t fear that made it race.
“Not yet.” Hunter’s hands moved down her arms, sending sparks of desire along her skin. He took her bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling gently, as his gaze burned into hers. “I’m the only person around here who’ll be taking a bite out of you, Morgan. You remember that.” His lips found hers, took them roughly, angrily.
She knew she should shove him away, but his firm mouth made her want more. Despite herself, she pulled her arms free, wrapped them around his neck, kissed him back just as potently.
His fingers trailed down her waist, stopped at her hips, snuck under her shirt on their way up. He found her breasts, sent shockwaves through her system as he rubbed his thumbs around and over her nipples—until her breath caught and rushed out.
Wanting to feel him, needing to, she skimmed her palms over his muscled back, relishing his warm, firm skin against hers. She cupped his butt over black mesh shorts, pulling him closer. She felt her effect on him, enjoyed the whippy thrill.
He tipped her head back, nipped her earlobe. His mouth wandered, leaving kisses along her neck, over her collarbone, making her whimper.
“God, Morgan, you smell good. You always smell so good. I want you.”
Hunter picked her up. Her breasts brushed his chest, teasing, and he groaned. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. She feathered kisses along his firm jaw, biting gently at the dimple in his square chin. Her tongue flicked at his earlobe and she smiled when he hissed out a breath between his teeth.