by Cate Beauman
Morgan grabbed him in a hug, gave him a quick, enthusiastic kiss. “This is the best day ever—a shower at the Besters’, a real meal, and a bed.” She did a cute little boogie dance that made Hunter chuckle.
Delighted with her, Hunter pulled Morgan back, brushed his lips against hers. He eased back, staring into her eyes and she smiled.
Caught up in her beauty, in the confusing mix of longing and fear she made him feel, he closed the distance again. He kissed her long and sweet. His tongue slid against hers, tangling, as she rose to her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck.
His hands encircled her small waist, his thumbs hooking through her belt loops. Where did this need come from? He thought back to what she said by the Besters’ RV, realizing he didn’t know how he would let her go when this was over.
Resting his forehead against hers, Hunter closed his eyes. “We need to keep moving.”
“Can we stop by the general store? See if they have ice cream? If they have double chocolate chunk, this day has the potential to go down in the ‘best day ever’ history books.”
The look Morgan gave Hunter was so pleading he would have walked through a landmine to get her the damn ice cream. “Yeah, we can see if they have chocolate chunk ice cream.”
“You’re turning into such a softie, Hunter.” She poked him in the stomach as they started walking again.
They went to the well-stocked general store, found a pint of chocolate chunk ice cream. While Morgan paid, Hunter blocked her body and kept an eye on the plated glass door. He scanned the tourists walking by, waiting for someone to make their move.
When nothing happened, they walked the dozen steps across the parking lot to the Tower Motel lobby. Hunter pulled open the door, letting Morgan in before him. A haze of cigarette smoke choked the air. Twangy country music belched from the ancient radio on a lopsided shelf that had been new decades before he’d been born.
Morgan wrinkled her small, straight nose as their eyes met. A smile tugged at her lips and she shrugged her shoulders, giving him the go-ahead to proceed.
Hunter plucked two fifties from his wallet, placed them on the scarred, wooden countertop next to one of several overflowing ashtrays. The heavyset woman with shocking orange hair never looked up from her book.
Morgan cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me—”
Hunter read the attendant’s nametag, cut Morgan off. “Gerdie, do you have a room?” Nice wouldn’t get them anywhere with this woman.
Snapping her gum, Gerdie tore her eyes from the trashy novel with a half-dressed man on the cover. “One left.”
“We’ll take it—two nights.”
Gerdie’s black painted-on eyebrow rose high as she looked Morgan up and down. Naked envy shone bright. With a sneer she gave them their total. “Sixty-five bucks.”
Hunter slid the money forward, spoke while Gerdie made change. “I know customer service is your top priority around here, but we don’t want you knocking on our door with fresh towels and chocolates for the pillows in the morning.”
The attendant glared.
“We don’t want to be disturbed.” Hunter grabbed Morgan’s ass.
Gerdie’s overshadowed eyes widen.
“We’ll be very, very busy.” Hunter took the keys from Gerdie’s limp hand, barely holding back a grin, as they made their way out the door.
Morgan glanced over her shoulder. “You’re looking awfully pleased with yourself. What was that for?”
“I thought I’d knock Gerdie down a peg. She was rude.”
Morgan snorted out a laugh. “Did you see the look on her face when you grabbed me? I thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.”
He grinned. “Yeah, it was pretty fun—on both counts.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “I can only imagine, but seriously, why did you do that?”
“My method may’ve been crude, but I don’t want anyone knocking on our door for the next twenty-four hours. I made it clear to Ethan, and I put it into terms Gerdie would understand. If someone knocks, I’ll know we didn’t invite them.” Some of Morgan’s lightness fell away. “Hey, relax. It’ll be a hell of a lot easier for me to keep you safe in a small room versus outside. We’ve done pretty well so far, right?”
She nodded.
Hunter slid the key in the lock, opened the door. After a visual sweep, he had Morgan come in. “I know it’s overkill, but let me check it out.” He gave the room a quick search, checking behind the shower curtain, under the beds. Finally he nodded an okay and Morgan set her pack down next to the bed.
Hunter walked back to the door, bolting it. He snapped the curtains closed, standing to the side of the glass—out of a potential bullet’s path. He peered through the small slit he’d left in the grimy fabric, scanning the visitors meandering about in the fading light of day.
The skittering along his spine warned him danger still loomed close. He scrutinized the tourists, looking for the one that didn’t belong, but he didn’t see anyone in particular that stood out. His gut told him whoever wanted them dead was too smart for such a rookie mistake. With nothing more to do but wait for morning, he closed the curtain fully.
He didn’t see the pair of binoculars deep among the trees that had been trained on him and Morgan for most of the day.
Morgan glanced at the threadbare carpet, the over-washed purple bedspread, and tacky bright green lamp on the bedside table. She could have wept with joy. “Look at this place. It’s like a palace. The last time I was this excited about a room was when the team and I stayed somewhere even worse than this. We’d spent a month in the rain up in Washington State. We slept three to a bed, the bathroom was filthy, and we didn’t care.”
Hunter looked around with less enthusiasm. “From a security standpoint, I can’t complain too much. The bathroom wall blocks the bed from the window and the deadbolt seems secure.” He shrugged.
Morgan pulled the cabinet doors open on the bright green monstrosity of a TV stand.
Hunter’s eyes brightened considerably. “Wait a minute. Now we’re on to something.” He wandered over, touched the 27-inch television. “Nice. It’s fairly new, and supposedly we have cable. If they have Sports Center, I’ll second your palace comment. Now, where’s the guide?” He pulled open drawers, stopped next to the phone. “I should call Ethan.”
He picked up the receiver, unscrewed the bottom piece, replaced it, punched in a number.
Seconds later, Morgan heard him give Ethan the phone number for the room.
He hung up, looked at her. “Since I’m the only one covered in dirt around here, I’m going to grab a quick shower. I still can’t figure out how you wormed your way into the Besters’.”
She smiled. “Hey, women stick together. While we sipped iced tea, I just happened to mention it’d been days since I’d had a real shower. She insisted I use theirs. It went blissfully well from there. Hurry with yours. I can smell the food, and my ice cream’s going to be liquid at this point.”
“I’ll be quick. Just don’t open the door, not for anyone or anything.” He disappeared into the bathroom.
“Thanks, Dad, for the refresher on basic safety tips.”
Through the doorway came Hunter’s middle finger. Morgan laughed.
The shower spray sputtered, finally hissing to life as Morgan’s stomach growled. She took their bowls and utensils from her pack, grabbed a change of clothes. She pulled on her black tank top and white boxers, turned on the TV. She slid off the piece of metal she’d carried around on her finger all afternoon, placed it on the side table. Staring at it, she wished it could be what it never would.
Hunter emerged moments later in his black mesh shorts, smelling like motel soap. He put his gun on the table closest to his side of the bed, walked over to the Tupperware. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.” He scooped two big bowls of chicken and dumplings from the container, handed them off, joined Morgan on the bed, resting on the pillows pushed against the wall. Sports Center ran through its highlights
for the day.
“Hey, Sports Center. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She took a bite of chicken in rich, gravy-like broth, closed her eyes, moaned. “Oh, Mrs. Bester, you’re the best.”
“You’re shattering my ego, Morgan. I don’t think you get that excited for me.” He took a bite. “Oh my God, Mrs. Bester, you are the best.”
They looked at each other, grinned.
“I really do feel bad we won’t have a picture to send with the Tupperware,” Morgan said.
Hunter handed her his bowl, crawled forward to the edge of the bed, rifled through his pack, pulled out his cell phone.
“What are you doing? We can’t use that.”
“I know. Put the bowls down on the side table and sit close.”
Confused, she set the bowls down, glanced over. He had the phone open.
“Oh, a picture. Nice.” She pushed herself against his side, waited for him to tell her to smile.
“Smile and thank Mrs. Bester for the best chicken and dumplings ever.” He followed his statement up with an obnoxious sex moan.
Morgan stared, eyes wide, laughing while he grinned at her. Hunter pressed the button, froze the moment.
“Nice, but I don’t think that’s going to work,” he said as he scrutinized the picture before holding the phone up again. “Okay, serious one now.” He put his free arm around Morgan and hugged her close as she rested her head on his shoulder, placed her hand on his chest. He laid his cheek against her hair. They smiled and he pressed the button again. They examined the results. “That’s the one we’ll send with the Tupperware. I’ll e-mail it to you when we’re back to civilization.”
“Sounds good.” She moved forward to grab their food as he caught her arm.
“Wait, one more.” He held the phone up, pressed his lips to hers. She responded to the warmth of his mouth, closed her eyes. The phone clicked.
He shut the phone, threw it toward his pack, never glancing at the picture they made. “Now, back to those dumplings.”
Shaken by the moment, Morgan turned for the bowls. Hunter was a completely different person when he was relaxed—funny and sweet. He kept showing her small pieces of himself, making her fall deeper and deeper.
Hunter tugged on her hair gently. “Hey, Earth to Morgan. I’m hungry over here.”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” She handed him his bowl, sat back against her pillow, taking another bite of the stew she no longer wanted. “What did Ethan say when you talked to him?”
“Your father will be here tomorrow to pick us up.”
Morgan frowned. “I’m confused. I thought Dean was here for that.”
He stared into her eyes.
“He’s part of all of this too?” She shook her head. “There has to be a mistake. He’s one of my dad’s closest friends. I grew up with his kids. We go to their house for New Year’s Eve every year.”
“I don’t think it’s a mistake. He never told your father about the mine.”
“Maybe he forgot. Maybe he…” Hunter’s eyebrows winged up and Morgan quieted. She let out a long sigh, knowing she sounded ridiculous. “He tried to convince me to stay in D.C., and he threatened to pull the funding for the project.”
“I’m sorry, Morgan.” Hunter paused. “There’s more. Robert took off after our little showdown. They haven’t been able to find him. I think he’s the biggest threat to you. He has the most to lose if you survive.”
Morgan shook her head staring at the ugly purple bedspread, struggling to take it all in. “When will my dad come for us?”
“We’ll meet him at one thirty. He’ll arrive in a four-car detail. We’ll head to the airport from here.”
“Why can’t he come get us tonight?” But as she asked, she was glad he wouldn’t come until tomorrow. Everything would be different when they got back to D.C.
“It’s too dangerous. He’s going to blow this whole operation wide open. He’s in just as much danger as you are. He won’t be landing until late. It’s better for him to stay in Bozeman. I want to be able see our surroundings when we head out.”
Fear washed through her and she stood. “My parents. No. I don’t want him to have any part in this. If he’ll be here, who’s with my mother?”
Hunter stood, grabbed her arm. “Hey, it’s all right.” He pulled her close, put his hands on her shoulders. “Everything’s taken care of. When I talked to Ethan, he was setting up a detail for your parents.”
“But Ethan’s in L.A.”
“He knows people all over the place. His security firm is known worldwide.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “Your parents are going to be just fine. He’s setting up our detail for tomorrow. Let Ethan do his job, your father too. It’ll all be over soon. I bet the police are out making arrests as we speak.”
“You’re right. I know you are, but they’re my parents. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to them.”
“Try not to worry. They’ll be placed under excellent protection, that I can promise you.”
“All right. I need a minute.” She broke free of his hold, walked to the bathroom. She turned on the cold water, splashed it on her face, trying to remember Hunter never broke a promise.
The phone rang and the water shut off. Hunter’s gaze met Morgan’s as she walked out of the bathroom, towel in hand. He picked up the receiver, placed it to his ear, waited.
“It’s Cooke. You there, Phillips?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Stanley called. You can relax. They’re breaking up the mine as we speak. They’re running a raid on some ranch up north of where you are. They’ve apprehended Dean and Robert.”
“Good, that’s good.”
“I think we should keep the detail intact for tomorrow just to play it safe.”
“I agree. Let’s go as planned, four cars to Bozeman.”
“Your crew landed with Stanley ten minutes ago. I was lucky to get the best of the best to head-up the team on short notice—used to be Secret Service.”
“What’s his name?”
“Baker.”
“Baker. Got it. I still want Stanley to stay put. It’s safest until we get them on a plane. You can book my flight for L.A.—late afternoon works.”
“You’re ticket will be waiting. We’ll grab a beer when you get back.”
“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.”
Hunter hung up, walked over to Morgan. “That was Ethan. It’s over, Morgan. Finished. Your father called everything in. It’s happening fast. The police just ran a raid at some ranch north of the mine. They found Dean and Robert. You and your father will be on a plane back to D.C. tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be able to put all of this behind you.” He kissed her forehead, hugged her close.
He stared at the dingy wall for several seconds as his words sunk in. This was it; tonight was it. He looked at Morgan, knew she thought the same thing.
A sense of urgency fell over him. Their gaze held as his mouth captured hers. He walked her backward until the back of her legs bumped the bed. He lifted her tank top over her head, pulled her boxers down. She stood in flossy white panties. When the scrap of silk pooled around her feet, he grabbed her legs, pulled them out from under her.
She landed with a bounce and a gasp. His tongue was in her heat before she finished taking another breath. She let out a long, loud cry as she came instantly. Hunter used his fingers, his mouth until her legs trembled. She called out for him mindlessly.
He crawled forward, lay on top of her. They rolled, reversing positions. Morgan straddled him—all flash, all fire—kissing him deep as her hands went wild on his body, touching, exploring.
Her lips moved to his neck, his chest, leaving opened-mouth kisses down his six-pack. Soft breasts rubbed against his skin with every frenzied movement, making him groan as he craved more. Her fingers grasped him—rock hard and ready—playing him as she stared into his eyes.
Her mouth replaced her busy hand. Hunter threw his head back, breath tearin
g from his lungs. He fisted his hands in her hair as she sent him to the edge, driving him crazy.
Morgan’s mouth journeyed up, capturing his as she took him in deep. She gasped as he let lose a rumble in his throat. She rode him hard and fast.
The scent of her hair surrounded him as soft brown locks cascaded around his face. The bold green of her eyes captivated, and he was lost in her rhythm, her beauty.
He dug his fingers into her hips as his breath came in ragged snatches. She grasped his hands, lacing their fingers, pulling them above his head—like he’d done the first time they were together.
Face close, eyes locked, she moaned, back arching, tensing, tightening around him. She cried out as she came, smiling in triumph.
“Morgan, Morgan,” he choked out as he panted. His hips jerked as he gasped and filled her. She collapsed to his chest and their hearts beat together.
He lay stunned with his arms wrapped around her back. It had never been like this. He’d had stellar sex before, but this was several notches into indescribable.
Minutes later, Morgan sat up on her elbows, looking down, and kissed him. “How was that? Better than Mrs. Bester’s dumplings?”
He smiled. “What dumplings?”
“Right answer.” She kissed him again. “I was starting to feel jealous of dough and gravy. I need a serious drink of water.” She climbed off. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Grinning, he watched her firm, sexy body disappear around the corner. The faucet turned on, plastic cups filled. Morgan came out holding two—one already half empty. “Here you go.”
Cheeks still rosy, she drank deep before pulling back the covers he wasn’t lying on and crawled in. “It’s getting chilly. It feels good to be in a bed.”
He handed her the cup; she set it on the side table. He got under the covers, looked at her. “Are you tired?”
“No, not really. Maybe there’s a movie on.” She picked up the remote, started flipping through the channels. It fell out of her hand when he playfully pounced on top of her, his eyes dancing with fun.
“It’s important for you to know that I’m a very competitive person. I feel like I was outdone a few minutes ago. It’s vital that I always come out on top.” He kissed her. “Let me rephrase and say it’s only vital that I come out on top competitively.”