Morgan's Hunter (28 page)

With a weary sigh, Morgan looked behind her. “No, I want to keep going.”

“We have to rest or we won’t be able to move tomorrow when we really need to. This rain isn’t going to last forever. If the search hasn’t been called off, the weather has seriously slowed them down. We’re safe for now.”

She nodded. “Okay, you’re right.”

“What do you say we make ourselves a shelter and get out of this rain for awhile?”

“That sounds good—really, really good. Can we set up the tent?”

Hunter shook his head. “It’ll take too long to break down if we have to move quickly. We can leave the tarps behind, but we don’t want to be without the tent.”

Hunter took a folded tarp from his pack. Morgan helped him tie the thick ropes attached to the vinyl around four large tree trunks. They pitched it at an angle, allowing the water runoff to flow into the rocks and trees instead of puddle on the second tarp they put down on the ground. Hunter gathered pine branches, placing them around the sides of their makeshift shelter.

With the tarps settled in place, both Morgan and Hunter stripped out of their dripping Gor-Tex. They sat in mostly-dry hiking pants and fleece tops. Morgan turned the LED lantern low, started making sandwiches. She piled rye bread with cold cuts she’d taken from the refrigerator. Hunter turned the small camp stove on to heat water for packaged chicken noodle soup.

Morgan handed Hunter his sandwich. He groaned over his first bite of ham and cheese. “Now this is a sandwich.”

“It should be.” She smiled before taking a ravenous bite. “You’ve got about a half-pound of meat and cheese between your bread. I wanted to use it all tonight before it spoils.” She added a packet of broth to the boiling water, stirred. “It’s great to be dry again, even if it’s just for a little while.”

Moments later she handed him a cup brimming with steaming broth and noodles.

He blew on the soup, cautiously sipped the salty liquid and thought he’d gone to heaven. “Who knew powdered broth and dehydrated noodles could taste so good. Make sure you have some too. You need the warmth and energy.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll eat. I’m starved.”

When Hunter finished his meal, he unsnapped the mattress pad and sleeping bag from his pack, took them from their waterproof covers. He lay them on the ground tarp, careful to avoid any water splashing in and on the vinyl. “Go ahead and get in when you’re ready.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I’m sleeping too. We’re sharing tonight. There’s not much of a choice. This tarp isn’t big enough for two sleeping bags and a spot for our clothes to dry out. We’ll keep each other warmer this way, anyway.”

Morgan didn’t hesitate as he thought she might. When she crawled toward the makeshift bed, Hunter set the alarm on his watch. Just enough time to rest; then they’d have to keep moving.

He took off his hiking pants and fleece, boots and socks, laid them out on the tarp to dry. Like Hunter, Morgan stripped down to her thermal pants and long-sleeve shirt. She eagerly slid into the bag, sighed when her head rested on the small bump of a pillow the mattress pad provided.

Hunter checked the safety on his pistol, put the gun close by. He squeezed in awkwardly behind Morgan as she leaned forward to let him in. He pulled the cover over them, and she zipped them into very close quarters.

Morgan lay back against him. “It’s so cold out here tonight. I can’t get warm.”

Hunter put his arm around her waist, pulling her close, until she snuggled into the warmth of his body. She rested her bandaged hand against his forearm.

“We’ll fix your dressing when we wake up. I’m giving us three hours.”

“I haven’t slept in nearly twenty-four. I’m so tired, but I don’t think I’m going to fall asleep.”

“Try to relax. As much as it sucks, the rain is working to our advantage. We created a decent distance.”

With Morgan settled close, Hunter watched the pounding rain pour from the bottom pitch of the tarp like a fast flowing waterfall. He thought about Morgan’s words. She hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours—since they’d had sex.

It bothered him to think she’d been that upset with the way things ended between them. She had lain inches from him—sleepless—while he’d slept on. When she’d returned to the tent, he remembered the way her eyes had pleaded with him to give her something—some small piece of himself.

He recalled the hurt when she’d looked away and dimmed the lantern to darkness. As was habit, he’d shrugged it off. He didn’t deal in messy emotions—they weren’t for him. Uncomfortable with his own cowardice, he brushed it all aside.

Morgan shifted again.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?” he whispered against her ear.

“I can’t settle my mind. Talk to me, Hunter, about anything. I don’t want to think anymore.”

“Okay.” He tried to think of something soothing but nothing came. Instead, he said the first thing that entered his mind. “I’m curious to know how Robert and those two cops will explain their injuries. They’ll have to come up with one hell of a story.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening. Robert knew about the mine.”

“It certainly looks that way.”

“How did he know we found it?”

“I still haven’t figured that one out yet.”

“Those were some pretty impressive moves you had. I didn’t know you knew karate. That was karate, right?”

“It was a mix of disciplines. Go to sleep now.”

“Did you learn in the Marines?”

He didn’t want to talk about his time in the military, but her voice was thick and sleepy. If he kept talking, she would eventually go out. He caressed his thumb along her hand, waiting for sheer exhaustion to take over.

“I’ve studied martial arts since middle school, but we definitely used it in the Marines.”

“What level are you?”

“We don’t call them levels. They’re belts. I’m a third-degree black belt. Close your eyes, Morgan. Relax.”

“I’m trying.”

The rain pounded against the tarp for several minutes. She no longer spoke. His thumb still moved across the soft skin of her hand. He thought she finally slept, until she spoke again.

“Thank you, for everything. Your lead about the mine was right. Now my friends’ families will finally know what happened. It’s not much, but it’s something. I don’t know how Ethan found out, but I’m grateful. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count. So, thanks.” She lifted his hand to her lips, kissed his knuckles, settled his arm back around her waist.

Hunter pushed the guilt aside for letting her believe Ethan had given him the information. It was still safer this way. He lifted his hand from her waist, ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re welcome. Now stop talking and go to sleep.” He wrapped his arm around her again, listening, until her breathing finally grew deep. He moved in closer, nestling his cheek against her neck and relaxed. Moments later, he slept too.

Her eyes had been closed for seconds when Hunter’s watch started its monotonous beep—or so it seemed. Morgan groaned. “Let’s go back to sleep. Another hour or two couldn’t hurt.”

Hunter stretched as much as their current arrangement would allow. “I wish I could say yes, but we have to get up and get moving. We’ll try to stop later.” He pulled the sleeping bag’s zipper down, dragged the cover back. “Hey, the rain stopped.”

The frigid air hit Morgan like a shocking slap. “Yikes, it’s cold out here.” With a shudder, she yanked the cover back in place. “What time is it anyway?”

Hunter pulled the cover off, sat up. “Three.”

She groaned again. “You’re a cruel man.”

They dressed quickly and took the time to heat water for strong coffee and hot cereal. Hunter changed Morgan’s bandage by the low light of the lantern. The bright, angry red surrounding the wound had faded to a dull pink. “This looks better. We caught the infection just in time.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop swabbing the damn antiseptic all over it?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

She smiled. “It never hurts to ask.”

A slow grin spread across his lips while he put the first aid supplies away.

“What are you doing? It’s your turn.”

“Huh?”

“We’re going to take care of your cheek. We should’ve cleaned it hours ago.”

Hunter brushed his fingers over the cuts. “Nah, it’s fine.”

“Let’s not risk it. Those are some deep nicks.” Morgan pulled the sanitizer and antiseptic free of the pouch. After cleaning her hands, she dipped a Q-tip in the bottle. “Scooch over a bit. I can’t reach.”

He stayed put, eyeing her.

“Afraid it’ll hurt? Don’t be a baby, Bodyguard Phillips. If I can take it, you sure can.”

“Those sound like fighting words.” He moved closer until they were knee to knee.

Pushing her face close to his, breathing him in, Morgan stared into the vivid blue of his eyes. His gaze wandered to her mouth and her heart thundered. “I can handle you,” she said, voice thickening.

“Are you sure? I know karate.”

The warmth of his breath feathered across her lips. If she moved her chin just an inch...

What was she doing? No. This wasn’t going to happen. She remembered the swab in her hand, jabbed it forward, making Hunter wince. “Yeah, but I have hydrogen peroxide.”

His fingers curled around her wrist, nudging her away. “Shit, that stings.”

With his curse, the shaky moment passed—good.

“Stop. Let me do this.” Morgan removed her arm from his grasp, concentrated on her work. She swabbed the Q-tip over and around the scratches on his cheekbone.

Hissing out a breath, Hunter pulled away. “Damn, Morgan.”

But Morgan only pulled him close again. “I’m sorry. I’m almost finished.” Blowing on the raw skin, she traced the last of the scrapes. “There. All set.”

“Thanks—I think.”

“You’re welcome.” Morgan put the supplies away, shoved the small kit in her pack. Her knees brushed Hunter’s. The contact was too much. She pushed back, giving herself some space, poured more coffee she didn’t want and sipped the bitter brew, shuddering. “Ugh, this stuff’s awful.”

Hunter topped off his own cup. “Yeah, but it’s all we’ve got.”

“Then it’ll do.”

Certain they were back on solid ground, Morgan relaxed and moved closer to Hunter’s side when he pulled out the map.

“We should plan on cutting across this mountain here. I would like to stay close to the road and follow the river into Tower Junction, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s too obvious. We won’t have as many water sources this way, but there’re enough to get us by.” He pointed to smaller rivers and streams along the route they would take.

“It looks like we’ll be fine.”

“We’ll have to push pretty hard today to put some distance between ourselves and whoever the hell is after us. I don’t know if your father straightened everything out with the authorities, and it’ll be awhile yet before we know what kind of resources we have working against us.”

Hunter took another sip of coffee before he continued. “The mine must be producing pretty damn well if they were willing to murder three people and buy a couple of cops. In my opinion, they won’t stop until they find us. They seem to have the money to use any means necessary. We’re the loose ends that can fuck everything up. Even if your father straightened stuff out and the mine has been busted up, it’s going to take time before all of the players are taken down.”

He glanced up from the map, stared into her eyes. “People will be looking for us. We’re literally running for our lives. I need to find a phone and contact Ethan.”

“I understand the gravity of our situation, Hunter. I’m ready to do whatever we have to to get home.”

“Let’s get to it then.”

They drank the rest of their coffee, packed up and resumed their trek.

Stanley woke with a start at three-thirty a.m. The phone on his bedside table rang twice before he finally answered. “Yes, hello.”

“Stanley, it’s Ethan Cooke. What the hell is going on?”

He sat up straight in his bed, alerted by the tension in Ethan’s voice. “What do you mean?”

“Hunter called a mutual friend of ours several hours ago saying he’d gotten himself into a hell of a situation and that he would call me when he could. I haven’t heard from him. I’ve been trying his cell phone. It goes to voicemail. Has Morgan contacted you?”