Dangerous Secrets (45 page)

‶
What do you mean they got
away?″ The old man received the news badly. He slammed his fist down on
the oriental antique desk. A jade pencil cup danced in a circle on the black
polished surface and a carved-ivory-handled letter opener jumped out of its
tray to lay flat on the wood.
‶
She′s an amateur.″

‶
I doubt amateur is the word to
apply to Ms. Kirkwood. She was ready for us. She′d planned her escape.
Had a way out fully orchestrated and she executed it beautifully. Exactly like
she did in that prison twelve years ago.″

‶
Maybe,″ the other man
said. He got up from his desk and came around to face his adversary.
‶
What
about the Indiana house and the highway? She couldn′t have had a plan
there.″

‶
She had help there and the man
she′s with is no amateur.″

He secretly admired Morgan Kirkwood. She was a
fighter, determined to stay alive, and so far she was succeeding.

‶
Who is he?″ the man
demanded.

They didn′t know, but he wouldn′t
admit that.
‶
As
far as we can tell he′s an agent. What branch, what government,
isn′t clear. Ms. Kirkwood is as patriotic as they come. I′d say
he′s U.S. He could be a cop or military, even FBI. No one else could have
pulled off his stunts without a high degree of skill, training and
experience.″

‶
I don′t care who he
is.″ The man′s hands disappeared inside the huge sleeves of his
robe. He wore these garments inside the house. During the rare times he left
this house, he wore the standard suits of the western world. But inside this
sanctuary, the outside world didn′t exist until someone brought it in.
Unfortunately, he was that messenger. His voice was low. He had to strain to
hear him clearly.
‶
I want them both found and then I never want anyone
to hear from them again. Do I make myself clear?″

The other man nodded.

‶
Either she′s dead or you
are.″

***

Nothing was more erotic than a woman sleeping,
Jack thought as he watched Morgan. A long T-shirt, exposed legs, just the
shadow of promise, revealing skin beneath the fabric. The bandage on her leg
remained intact, but in no way did it obscure the shapeliness of form, balance,
and proportion that defined not only her body, but also her mind.

Jack′s body got hard.

The sun had risen, but he hadn′t
disturbed Morgan. He′d left her to go for a run, returning to find her
still asleep. Since then he could only sit and watch her. The covering over the
windows he′d used to camouflage the SUV kept the inside dim. He reached
over and smoothed the hair away from her face. She stirred, but didn′t
awaken.
He let her sleep
. They should
leave soon, but he enjoyed looking at her. It had been too long since
he′d simply looked at a woman. He′d known women who scrambled to
get to other places and women who cooked breakfast in the morning. He′d
known women on assignments, when time was of the essence, but he′d never
run with a woman and he′d never felt the way he did with anyone, except
Morgan.

She appeared vulnerable in sleep, like a child
needing protection. Jack was surprised by the swell to his heart when he
thought of her.

She reached up and touched his face, smoothing
her fingers between his eyes.
‶
You′re frowning,″ she said. Her voice
was the morning-after-sex voice. It grabbed him and wove a spell that told him
he wanted her again.
‶
What were you thinking?′′

Jack took her hand and kissed her fingertips.
One finger slipped into his mouth and he sucked it.
‶
I think you sleep
beautifully,″ he answered.

Morgan smiled and raised herself up enough to
slip her arm around his neck. Jack held her, closing his eyes. He drank in her
scent, the smell of her hair, the warm cologne of her body, the lingering after
effects of a sexual encounter. He wanted her, not just now, but for always. Yet
he knew it couldn′t be. Holding her a second longer and squeezing her to
him, as if to imprint a memory he could take out and hold in the coming years,
he pushed her back.

‶
We have to go soon. You must be
hungry.″

‶
Your hair′s wet,″
she said.

‶
I found a stream about fifty
yards from here. If you need some time alone it′s over there.″ He
pointed toward the front of the vehicle.

Morgan left after pulling on her clothes. Jack
got their food out from the previous night. He cleared the sleeping bags,
feeling the warmth of Morgan′s body in the blankets she′d left
behind. He wanted to hold onto it, keep it for the future, but like a soft wind
it would escape. He set the salads out and pulled drinks from the cooler Ben
had left for him. She was gone a long time. Jack was about to go after her when
he glanced up and saw her returning. He stopped still, straightening from his
task.

She walked slowly, coming toward him. Her leg
must not have hurt much any longer, for her limp was less evident than it had
been the previous night. For a moment everything slowed down and he watched
openly as she approached. She mesmerized him. He couldn′t move his gaze
away, not even able to pretend he wasn′t looking. He stared—outright.

A single tube of lipstick and a comb and brush
had transformed her from the country girl, all wheat and morning sunshine, into
a glowing, raving beauty. Her eyes seemed brighter, larger. Her mouth wore the
dark color and her face radiated an inner glow. He wanted to go to her, take
her into his arms and make love to her again. The night had been more than
he′d imagined life offered. The two of them had scaled mountains, soared
into the heavens beyond the moon until they entered that corporeal area where
time and space ceased existence, where only the few and the very rare are ever
allowed. Yet with her, with Morgan Kirkwood, he′d found it. Together,
they had crossed over the line, past the spot marked with the X and discovered
something so beautiful that defining it wasn′t necessary. They′d experienced
it and to recall it they only needed to touch or feel or think and it would be
there.

Jack kept watching her walk toward him. Her
arms swung slowly forward and back at her sides. Her head moved and her hair
swung about her face like a focus ring that kept him trained on that one area
of the landscape. He knew never again would he be able to look at that place
where they′d gone as a couple, a unit, a set, two lovers alone. Without
her he could never go there and the urge to experience it over and over was
towering. He wanted her with him every day, every step of the way, for always.

At that moment Jack knew he was in love with
Morgan. She complemented him, brought out qualities that were more than a job,
even one where he cared about the principles behind it. She showed him lands
he′d never expected to see, took him to heavenly mountains he
didn′t know could be viewed by mortal man. He wanted her again, wanted
that feeling again, that ultimate trip, a journey that could only be made with
her.

Nearly incapable of speech when she stood in
front of him, he couldn′t resist the urge to touch her. His hands brushed
her arms lightly and he stepped close enough that she had to look up at him. He
leaned toward her gently, holding himself in the greatest check he′d ever
done. Then he kissed her, tenderly, cradling her in his arms, hold her like a
work of art so fine and so delicate that she required the greatest care.

Jack wanted her again, wanted to make love. He
knew tomorrow was their enemy and that time for them had become finite. He
crushed her against him, feeling the blood in his body rioting through his
system, knowing the imprint of her smaller frame outlined against his.

He was only a thread away from undressing her
when he heard her stomach growl. The sound was like a huge hammer striking a
boulder. He couldn′t remember the last time she ate and he knew her
migraines would return if she didn′t get some food. With an effort
greater than the forces needed to pull down a mountain, he slid his mouth from hers,
but kept her in his arms for just a little longer. He inhaled, knowing that
even if he were blind he′d be able to pick her out of a crowd by the
distinctive fragrance that spoke her name. It was as identifiable as
fingerprints. Slowly he pulled back, letting his hands run down her arms to her
hands. He held them a moment and smiled, then stepped back, allowing the space
between to calm his chiming nerves.

He reached into the SUV and picked up the
plastic containers of food. She curled her feet under her as she leaned against
the vehicle wall and took the salad they′d left untouched the night
before. Jack went to the small cookstove and poured two Styrofoam cups of
coffee. Giving her one, he sat opposite her with his own meal. The dressing had
made the lettuce soggy, but they ate it anyway. Morgan drank deeply of the
juice and coffee. Jack carefully opened a single packet of sugar and dumped it
into his cup. Then he slipped the torn-off top into the bottom and dropped both
into a small plastic bag. Morgan watched him. He didn′t meet her eyes,
because he didn′t want her to see what was in his.

‶
Jack, where were you
born?′′ Morgan asked as she finished her salad and set the plastic
container aside.

It wasn′t the first time Jack had heard
the question, and it usually came from a woman. The planted story Jack usually
told sprang quickly to his memory. He had an alias, many of them, and reading
the situation or direct orders usually told him which one to use. Morgan
wasn′t an order and she′d proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that
she
wasn′t just a job.

He couldn′t give her the company line and
he couldn′t wave her off with one of his fabricated aliases. All that
remained was the truth. She deserved that. She′d had so many lies in her
life. He couldn′t heap another one on the tottering pile.

‶
Lexington, Kentucky,″ he
answered with the truth.

‶
We′re not that far from
Kentucky. Do your parents still live there?″

He nodded.
‶
My dad retired last year. He
was a pharmacist.′′

‶
And your mom?″

‶
She′s a lawyer. She still
practices, but only takes cases that interest her.″

Morgan smiled.
‶
That′s wonderful. I
thought about that once.″

‶
Being a lawyer?″

She shrugged.
‶
Being helpful,″ she
paused.
‶
What
about brothers? Sisters? Do you have any?″

‶
Four sisters. They′re all
married with children.″

‶
That′s nice.″ This
time her smile had sadness to it.
‶
You must have wonderful holiday
reunions.″

Jack only nodded. For reasons he knew would
conjure up her own poor memories of holidays, he refrained from giving her
details of the Christmases he′d spent with his family, the summer picnics
or family ski trips. Jack′s life of late had been all jungle and farce.
He′d forgotten the happy times, put them away to deal with day-to-day
needs, but they were there, waiting behind a door he only need open to remember
and relive.

Morgan′s doors to the past were locked,
entombing memories she fought to hide. He doubted any of them would make her
smile.

‶
Tell me about Jack?″
Morgan broke into his thoughts.

‶
What?″

She looked up. Her brown eyes were huge and
filled with wonder.

‶
You know everything about me. I
only know that you exercise, eat salads instead of junk food, neatly tuck the
torn-off tops of sugar packets inside the bottoms before throwing them
away.′′ She glanced at the sugar packet. His eyes followed her
lead. ″I know″—she hesitated suggestively—″almost nothing
else.″ Stretching her leg toward him, she ran her toe up his leg.
‶
So
tell me about Jack.″

Jack hesitated. He couldn′t help it. It
was both habit and ingrained teaching. He didn′t talk about himself.
Often he turned the conversation around to gain information from the other
person, but today he was going to tell Morgan what she wanted to know.

‶
My childhood was normal. I did
all the things children do, summer camp, winter sports, braces on my teeth,
extremely shy of girls.″

Morgan laughed. She turned sideways, pulling
her legs up and banding her knees with her arms. Jack liked the way her hair
fell around her face. She looked as if she was a child and he was telling her a
fascinating story.

‶
Our family gatherings were
always happy,″ he continued.
‶
We get together during the
holidays and I attend when I can.″

‶
How did you become interested
in swimming?″

‶
When I was eight my parents put
a pool in our yard and I spent all my free time in it. I joined the swim team
in high school and chose my university because it had a first-class team. While
in college I was asked to join the Olympic team.″

‶
As a coach?″

He shook his head.
‶
As a
competitor.″ He looked at her wide wonderful eyes. He wondered why
he′d never noticed how expressive they were.

‶
I would have been in high
school then,″ Morgan added.

‶
I turned it down.″

‶
You did!″ She nearly sat
up straight.

‶
Not immediately. I went to the
training camp.″ He told her the story of his experience at the camp. And
his fateful dinner with his recruiter.
‶
They offered me a job.″