Dangerous Secrets (64 page)

The secret service broke into the room and
secured Carla Lewiston.

When Morgan jumped in front of him, Jack felt
as if his entire life was over. Hart had moved at the same time, subduing his
wife, taking the gun from her and restraining her in the fierce fight she put
up to get free. The room was suddenly filled with agents. Maids, butlers,
cooks, gardeners, poured into the room. Hart sketched the details of what had
happened while Jack held Morgan, whispering to her, brushing her hair back from
her face. He didn′t know who called the police or how long he held
Morgan. They were there and she was being worked on.

Outside, the red and blue lights threw garish
colors on the trees and bushes in front of him. Jack grabbed the leaf-laden
branch of a bush near the front door with both hands as they lifted the
white-sheeted Gurney into the ambulance.

Hart remained with him. Jack felt numb on the
outside but inside he felt as if a hot knife was cutting through his stomach.
His hands curved over the branches and he held on as if he could pull the bush
from the ground, roots and all.

He was in love with her. And she might die if
she wasn′t dead already. He couldn′t turn around to see.
Didn′t want to face the reality that she might be gone, that he′d
never told her and might not get the chance again.

He felt Hart move next to him and he looked
sideways. The older man pushed both hands in his pants pockets. Jack had seen
them shaking.

‶
Is she—″ He
couldn′t finish the sentence. He didn′t want to know the answer.

‶
We don′t know,″
Hart said.
‶
She′s
going to be fine, Jack. She′s going to be fine.″

Jack could tell by his voice he didn′t
know for sure. The medics told him nothing. She could be critical. Why had she
done it? Why had she jumped in front of a bullet to save him? Didn′t she
know he′d rather take it than have her hurt?

He loved her.

He couldn′t lose her.

Not now.

***

Jack paced the tiny strip of floor before a
single window in Virginia General Hospital for the past five hours. Hart slept
awkwardly on a sofa inside Morgan′s private room. Secret Service and FBI
agents hovered outside the door, tired and longing for sleep. Morgan, swathed
in white bandages across her left shoulder, breathed shallowly under starched
sheets. She looked small and pale.

Sitting in a chair near the bed, Jack took her
hand and held it. It was warm and limp. In the subdued light, he checked her
fingernails for any sign that something might be wrong. They were pink and
healthy looking. He let out a breath.

Hart shifted and Jack glanced at him. Jack had
suggested that Hart return to the house and get some sleep, but he refused.
He′d spent hours at the police station before coming to the hospital.
Since his arrival in the early hours of the morning, he′d been like a
beaten man.

His life was so altered by only a few hours. He
had no idea when he woke yesterday morning that the day would end with his wife
in jail and his daughter in a hospital. What this would do to his campaign was
another story.

Morgan had been in and out of surgery. The
doctor assured him she′d come through it fine and she would heal.
She′d been lucky, he′d told him. Like Hart, Jack refused to leave
her side.

He wanted to be there when she woke up. He
wanted to tell her how much he loved her.

‶
Jack,″ Morgan said in a
dry voice. Instantly he was on his feet, still holding her hand. He brought it
to his chest where his heart beat so fast he thought it would burst.
‶
Are
you all right?″

He wanted to laugh. The sheer release of
letting the pent-up tension go should do him good, but he didn′t.

‶
How do you feel?″

‶
My shoulder hurts. And my
throat is dry.″

He poured her a cup of water and helped her up
to drink it through the angled straw.
‶
The anesthetic makes your
throat dry.″

‶
And the bullet?″

She remembered, he thought.
‶
The
doctor says you′ll be fine.″

‶
I guess my Olympic days are
really over now.″ She tried to laugh, but ended with her face seized by
pain and her hand reaching toward her shoulder.

‶
Let me call the nurse to give
you something.″ Jack picked up the call button.

‶
No,″ Morgan said.
‶
I
want to stay awake for a while.″

Jack took the hand she held up to stop him.

‶
What happened to Carla?″

Jack looked over at Hart. He was still asleep
on the sofa.
‶
She
was arrested. You were right about there being two separate groups tracking us.
The Koreans were behind one, but Carla was behind the other attempts on your
life. She found out you were Hart′s daughter and thought you were a
threat to him and the presidency. She needed to get you out of the way.″
He looked at Hart again.
‶
He really loved her.″

Morgan peered at him.
‶
She loved him too.
Only a great love could make her do what she tried to do.″

‶
You don′t forgive her, do
you? She tried to kill you.″

‶
No,′′ Morgan said.
″I don′t forgive her, but I do understand.′′

Jack looked at her. Her words seemed to have
another meaning. She wasn′t talking about Carla and Hart. She meant them.

‶
Morgan, I love you.″ He
looked down at her, but she′d fallen asleep.

Chapter 19

‶
Did you say you loved
me?″ It was the first thing Morgan said when she awakened six weeks ago
in the Virginia hospital. Jack had been by her bedside as he′d been when
she woke the first time.

He′d gotten up from the chair he′d
been sitting in and stood near the head of the bed.
‶
I do love
you,″ he nodded.

Morgan went to throw her arms around him, only
to be reminded of the pain in her shoulder. She flopped back against the
pillows.

‶
How long have you known?″
she asked.

‶
Twelve years.″

Morgan′s eyes must have opened as wide as
saucers.
‶
You
mean when we were in—″

He took her hand, interrupting her.
‶
Yes,
when we were in Korea. I gave what I felt about you other names. I told myself
it was nothing special. That I could live without you. I told myself it
wasn′t love, yet the moment I found out you were in trouble I
couldn′t stay away.″

The room was semi-dark. Sunrise painted the sky
shades of gold and orange. Hart no longer slept on the sofa. Jack′s voice
was low and reverent, as if the two of them needed to whisper.

‶
You have to get well,″
Jack said.
‶
The
moment you′re out of here we′re getting married. Twelve years is a
long enough engagement.″

Morgan′s recovery was nothing short of
miraculous after that. She was happy. She didn′t think she could ever be
happier, but each day brought another surprise. The newspapers broke the story
of her attempted murder by Carla Lewiston and Carla′ s subsequent arrest.
Reporters descended on the hospital like Baptists at a revival. Jack and a
battalion of secret service and private nurses kept everyone away from her, but
the papers and television news stepped up programs of them, pulling out
everything they had in their archives about her and Hart. Hart was constantly
on the screen, and strangely his ratings in the polls went up. The increase,
however, didn′t have the odds makers predicting a win for him.

Allie and Jan showed up the day after the story
broke. Some of Morgan′s other Olympic teammates sent flowers or fruit
baskets. Get well cards poured in by the tens of thousands. Jack got a kick out
of teasing her about all the
‶
friends″ she had.

Days later her room looked like a
florist′s shop. The day she was released she took a phone call from the
Olympic Committee. They asked her to officially open the games in St. Louis if
she was well enough.

Morgan thought she′d die from happiness.
She chose to do her physical therapy at Jan′s camp, under the direction
of her taskmaster friend and former team member. Leaving the hospital, she and
Jack returned with Jan and Allie to West Virginia.

Only two weeks before the opening ceremony
Morgan stood in the beam gym. The runway looked longer than she remembered it.
The place was full of campers at different stages of exercise. Morgan had
almost no pain from the gunshot wound. Her daily exercise routine helped her
gain strength and muscle definition. She was nearly back to her normal self.

She concentrated on the beam. Freeing her mind
of all thoughts, she looked only at her goal. Raising up on her tiptoes, she
started the run. Picking up speed as she went, her arms pumping the air around
her, she saw the springboard. With the precision of a broad jumper, she leapt
into the air and came down on the springboard. Into the air she went, higher
than she thought she′d ever done. She tumbled, her body completing a full
revolution in the air and her feet coming down on the four-inch beam as if it
were as wide as a diving board. She stood up straight, her arms extended. Then
she did a one-hand cartwheel, turned and walked the length of the beam to her
starting point. Concentrating again, she ran the short distance and reached for
the sky. She did a full layout with a twist and landed on the soft padded floor
without a hitch. Her arms went up and she smiled.

She smiled often these days and for no apparent
reason. She′d think of Jack and a smile would break out on her face no
matter where she was or what she was doing.

Jack and Morgan hadn′t been separated
since she was released from the hospital, but he′d gone to Montana last
week. She missed him more than she thought possible. Working out with Jan,
getting ready for a short performance in the Olympics, helped keep her mind off
his absence. Her nights were the worst. She missed having his arms around her,
making love with him, but she did have a few moments to give to Allie,
who′d seized the opportunity to play wedding planner. She was planning
Morgan and Jack′s wedding.

Jan was in the back of the gym when she turned
around.
‶
Great!″
Jan shouted.
‶
You′re
ready.″

‶
I think I′ll try it again
with the torch,″ Morgan said as she picked it up and came toward Jan. She
was to light the torch at the opening, the Olympics′ official notice to
the world that the modern games were to begin.

‶
That′s enough for
today,″ Jan said.
‶
We′ll practice with the torch tomorrow.
I′m sure you′ll do the routine perfectly. Right now I believe
there′s someone waiting for you with a torch of his own.″

***

Water sliced over Jack′s head and down
his back. Morgan′s arms circled his neck and he kissed her. He knew she
often ended her workout sessions with a long relaxing bath. Today she chose a
hot shower and he thanked her for it. He′d been gone a week. It felt like
a year. He was impatient. He needed her, wanted her, wanted to be inside her as
fast as he could.

His body screamed for hers. He′d never
known that before, never realized he could be so driven to one woman. She
brought out the animal in him, and the lamb. He wanted to ram himself into her
folds and he wanted to slide into her with all the tenderness he could muster.

The water sprayed them, creating a mist. Steam
clouded the stall. He held her, taking her mouth, running his soapy hands over
the curves of her slick-smooth body. She moaned in his mouth and he took the
sound, his body aroused and growing harder with each drop of water that ran
down his skin.

‶
I missed you,″ he said,
only releasing her mouth long enough to reposition it. Her lips were soft,
wonderful. His mouth was rough. His body was holding back, but his mouth drank
everything she gave, and he craved more. Forcing her head back, his tongue swept
into her mouth, taking possession, like a man who knew the exact moment of his
death was near, like a man who wanted to savor, possess, fulfill, prolong the
pleasure for just a second more, keep the blood pumping in his chest for just
another moment so he could love just a moment more.

Water rained over them, spattering to the
sides. It could have sounded like thunder, but the beat of his heart would
drowned it out.

He lifted Morgan, feeling her tingling breasts
move up his chest as her legs wrapped around him. He pushed her against the
wet, warm tile of the shower and entered her with the slowness of a man walking
through knee-deep water. He felt her convulse as the first anticipated wave of
pleasure shot through her. It shot through him like a quiet undertow,
unsuspecting, sudden. Where there had been strength and sure-footing, he was
fighting the shifting sand. Waves of pleasure raced through him and he filled
her with slow, easy strokes.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she gave
him complete control over her. He didn′t think she′d ever done that
in her entire life. She couldn′t move. He imprisoned her against the wet
wall, their bodies as slick as the tile. He felt powerful and wonderful that
she trusted him as she trusted no other.

Their bodies joined and rejoined. Water poured
between them. Her breasts were heavy and pouting each time they touched him,
teasing him, giving him pleasure and taking it away, making him beg for it as
the two held onto each other and the heat coming off their bodies threatened to
boil the water at his feet, converting the sprays to steam as it dropped from
the showerhead.

Jack kissed her, his body lost to him,
seemingly with a mind of its own. He moaned a low, animal sound, losing all
control and moving faster and faster, pleasure, aching, longing pleasure,
sensual, ragged, hot pleasure rioting through him, urging him on, making him
feel as if the two of them would burn in a tsunami of fire that overtook them
with a force neither could stop or deny.

Suddenly Morgan screamed, or was that his
voice? They collapsed. He held her in place as the real world seemed to
refocus. The water struck his body in needlepoints. His breath was audible,
mingled with hers. She slid down the wall, her legs, one at a time, brushing
down his like the smooth liquid that drained through the shower floor. Jack
didn′t understand why he and Morgan still had substance, why they
didn′t dissolve and melt into the water and disappear too.

Neither had the strength to do anything. Their
bones had turned to rubber and even simple things like turning off the water
was denied them. Jack and Morgan remained there until their hearts returned to
earth and marrow returned to their bones.

‶
You′re incredible,″
Jack said.

‶
We′re incredible,″
she said and turned the shower off.

***

This is where it had all started, Morgan
thought. And it was a fitting place to end. She stood poised to begin her run.
The arena just outside of St. Louis, was packed to capacity with spectators.
Sixty thousand people watched, cheering, waiting, anticipating the moment when
she would light the flame signaling the beginning of the Olympic games
they′d waited four years to see.

Excitement as tangible as fine netting
electrified the air. Morgan lifted the torch higher. The flame smelled of sulfur.
Spotlights swept across her. The crowd roared. She wore a white body suit with
splashes of blue and red. The lights turned the white background a rainbow of
colors.

Morgan looked ahead at her goal. She was going
to do the part of the beam routine that had won her a gold medal at the Korean
games, modified somewhat for the lighted torch. She looked up. Jack Temple
stood at the end of her run. He was in nearly the same place he′d been
twelve years ago when her concentration focused only on him. She smiled and
started her run toward a future that was bright and filled with love.

Toward Jack.

***

Epilogue

‶
. . . that you will faithfully
execute the office of the President of the United States. . .″

January 20th. The day was cold. The wind blew
from the Potomac River up Pennsylvania Avenue to the steps of the Capitol.
Morgan turned her coat collar up closer about her neck. Jack′s arm pulled
her into his side, offering her a bit of his warmth. She looked up and smiled.
Tears swam in her eyes. She was happier than anyone deserved to be.

Her grandfather and father stood in front of
her. She had Jack and she had them—a family. Allie and Jan stood in the front
row facing them.

Morgan and Jack had gone to Montana when
everything was finally over. There they′d been besieged by phone calls
from other team members concerned about her. With Jack′s help, her
teammates had joined Hart′s campaign. Morgan′s heart swelled to
discover how many friends she really had.

Hart won the election, not by the huge majority
he′d hoped for, but by an eyelash, as one reporter put it. Yet a win was
a win. Morgan knew even if it were by a tenth of a point, it counted. Supreme
Court Justice Angus Lewiston administered the oath of office to his son while
she and Jack joined thousands of people who looked on. Even if he only eked by
in the Electoral College, he had four years to prove his worth. Morgan had no
doubt he would succeed.

It was a proud day.

Carla Lewiston had been indicted on charges of
attempted murder, conspiracy, kidnapping and a long list of other charges
Morgan couldn′t remember. She′d wanted to be the First Lady. Little
did she know that without her attempts to cover everything up, to keep the
public from discovering the family skeleton, everything would have worked out
as she wanted it. Morgan felt sorry for her. She had so much, but she wanted so
much more.

“I, Hart Lewiston, do solemnly swear that I
will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and I
will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution
of the United States.″

Jack tightened his arm around her as Hart spoke
the oath. Morgan′s heart was in her eyes when she met Jack′s gaze.
It wasn′t so far from the alleys of Southeast to the steps of this famous
landmark, but Morgan never dreamed she′d make the trip.

Or that the man of her dreams would be standing
by her side when she did.

THE END

***

If you enjoyed this book, try
Legacy
(http://www.shirleyhailstock.net/e-legacy.html).

Legacy is the story of Michael Lawrence, a
traumatized attorney who has turned his back on the law and escaped to a
solitary life in the Maryland mountains. Discovering he is heir to a fortune,
he must return to the city and work with Erika St. James, the beautiful new
president of a multinational corporation. While his thoughts of her stray from
the boardroom to the bedroom, someone else has plans to make him pay for past
deeds. And Erika is the pawn he’ll use to force Michael into the open.

Michael woke with a start. It wasn't the dream
this time— but the crate against his back had fallen away. He lay on the small
wharf next to the rowboat. The bobbing had relaxed him and he'd fallen into a
light sleep. Pulling the crate back into place, he repositioned himself. The
August sun warmed his face, but fall came early in the mountains and winter's
snow would soon follow it. Michael liked winter. He liked the fresh¬ness in the
air, even when he'd lived in the city. Winter days were fresh, biting
sometimes, but always clear enough to get his mental juices flowing. Maybe this
winter he'd finally get rid of Abby's image.