by Ciana Stone
Cord stared at the door for a moment. He knew when not to push Morgan and he could see from looking in her eyes the love that was still there beneath all the hurt and anger. It was the hurt he hated, wishing she'd never had to bear it.
One of the agents groaned and turned his attention to the matter at hand. Quickly Cord sprinted across the warehouse and slipped out the back door to find Jeff leaning against the side of the building.
"Did you touch anything?" he asked.
"Just the quarters I put in the drink machine," Jeff answered.
"Well, they'll play hell figuring that out," Cord replied. "Come on, let's get out of here!"
Running to their bikes, they hopped on and took off out of the parking lot.
To be continued in… Restrained
Well, things aren’t going well for Cord or Morgan. It looks like the only one who’s getting what they want is Victor.
But things aren’t carved in stone and the tale isn’t done, so turn in for more in Restrained.
CIANA STONE
The Shattered Chronicles
Book 4
RESTRAINED
Excerpt
Chapter One
"How was your day?" Victor asked as Morgan entered the study.
"I don't want to talk about it." She was still shaken by seeing Cord and part of her wished she'd given him a chance to tell his side of the story.
It was so much easier when I thought he'd never be back. She walked over and stood in front of the fire.
"How did the meeting with Drake Tapper go?" Victor asked, sitting at the desk with his chin resting on his fingers and studying her.
She jumped at the question and turned around to look at him. Her anger suddenly flared, threatening to erupt into complete rage. "How did you know about that?"
"I have my ways."
"Well, since you seem to already know everything, why even ask?"
"There comes a time in every relationship my darling, when one must decide where one's loyalties lie. So, I must know. Which side have you chosen?"
"It is difficult to choose when one does not know all the facts!" she shot at him in the same manner of speech and tone.
He leaned back and laughed. "All right, let's examine the facts, shall we? One. Your husband left you for another woman. Two. I'm a rich and powerful man, and three. I love you."
"And how did you know about Drake Tapper?" She walked to the other side of the desk and stared at him.
"Your phones are being monitored by the FBI," he waved his hand as he spoke, as if it were common knowledge. "They, unlike you, checked out the Drake Tapper story and found out something was going on that was not, shall we say, entirely above board? At this very moment they are most likely closing in on Mr. Davis."
Morgan studied Victor with narrowed eyes. By the omission of Cord's name, she guessed he didn't know Cord had been there. "Why would they have any reason to arrest Jeff?"
Victor stood and walked around the desk, perching on the edge as he spoke in the tone one would assume with a child. "One thing you must learn is when you are wealthy and in the public eye, you are susceptible to devious plots from unscrupulous persons. The FBI were only doing their job, trying to protect you."
"I don't need protection. I can take care of myself. Besides, Jeff was only there to ask for a job. So, if you have any influence, I want you to call off this foolishness immediately."
"I merely have informational sources, not influence."
"Then I'll call them myself."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he chuckled. "They might want you to explain why you, let's say, avoided them?"
Morgan turned away from him, not wanting him to see her face. What he said was true. She didn't want to explain.
Victor regarded her as she stood with her back to him. He'd purposely left out the part about the white-haired stranger in the hope she would tell him everything of her own accord.
He smiled. She constantly amazed him with her unpredictable nature. It'd been so easy with Cassie; boringly easy, in fact. But Morgan was a challenge and that excited him.
Morgan's mind was racing. Somehow, she had to divert Victor's attention away from what took place in the warehouse. She couldn't let him know Cord was there. Fighting with him would serve no purpose other than to make him suspicious so that was out. A small smile played at the corners of her lips.
Once again, she surprised him. Instead of arguing as he expected, she suddenly sat in the chair in front of the desk and pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her legs she began to cry.
Victor's heart melted at the sight of her, so beautiful and vulnerable. Desiring to always play the role of knight in shining armor for her, he moved over to her and swept her up in his strong arms.
"I don't know what to do," she sobbed into his broad shoulder. "I'm so tired of this battle, Victor. What am I going to do?"
"Don't worry," he soothed her as he carried her from the study. "I'll take care of everything."
*****
"Good morning, Mrs. Alexander," Stork stood as Morgan entered her office. "Your assistant said we could wait for you here," he explained as he saw the irritated look that flashed across her face. "You remember special agent Andy Smith, of the FBI?"
"Yes, good day, Agent Smith," Morgan said, "and to you, Mr. Stork. Please have a seat and tell me what brings you here."
She sat down behind her desk and regarded the two men. At a look from Stork, Smith spoke up. "There was an incident at Alexander Enterprises last night, Mrs. Alexander, during which five FBI agents were incapacitated. What can you tell us about this?"
Morgan considered before speaking. Seeing Cord last night had been quite a shock. The sight of him had not only kindled the feelings she'd never been able to rid herself of but had reopened wounds that hadn't yet healed.
Even though she still harbored resentment at the way he had treated her, she couldn't dispel the power of her love for him. All night she lay awake, wishing she'd just let him talk. Maybe if she'd listened to his side of the story, she would have felt better.
At any rate, there was no way she would turn him in. Despite all the hard feelings the need to protect him was as strong as ever.
"I really don't know much of anything," she said. "An old friend dropped by to see me about a job and we went into the warehouse to get a soft drink from the machine. The next thing I knew, these men were jumping out yelling at us. Then the lights went out, and we got out of there as quick as we could."
"And you didn't see anyone else in the warehouse when you and your friend entered?" Smith asked.
"No. The warehouse workers had already left for the day, so I didn't even look for anyone. I assumed that everyone had left. Why?"
"And you don't know what happened after you left the warehouse?" Stork asked.
"No."
"You didn't hear or see anything at all, Mrs. Alexander?" Smith asked in a tone that implied he didn't believe her.
"No. I didn't wait around to hear or see anything, Mr. Smith. I left."
"And it never occurred to you to call anyone about the incident?" Stork inquired, suspecting that Morgan was hiding something.
"Mr. Stork," she looked at him squarely. "Surely you remember what happened to me in Washington?" She referred to the men imposing as CIA agents whom she had disabled in the car.
"Yes. I do. But what does that have to do with what happened here last night."
"Let's just say, once bitten, twice shy, shall we? I had no interest in hanging around to see if those men really were with the FBI."
"I understand, Mrs. Alexander," Smith offered. "So, after you left here, where exactly did you go?"
"To Victor's."
"That would be Victor Vinsetti, your fiancé?" Smith clarified.
"That's the one," she said and stood. "So, if there's nothing else gentlemen, I have a clinic to run."
"Just one more thing, Mrs. Alexander," Stork said. "Did you happen to notice a gentle
man around here at any time in the last few days?"
"A gentleman? Mr. Stork I run a ranch and a vet clinic, there are gentlemen around here every day." She broke eye contact by walking around the desk to stand beside the door. "Why?"
"A man of indeterminate age, approximately six foot two, with a muscular build and white hair was reported by one of the agents as being in the warehouse last night," Smith informed her.
"Oh!" Morgan laughed. "He must have seen Al."
"Al?" Stork asked casting her a dubious look.
"Yes," she smiled. "Al is the janitor. But he has light blond hair, not white. I guess he must have been finishing up, and the agent mistook his hair for white in the fluorescent light of the warehouse."
"I see," Stork said in a tone of voice that let her know he didn't believe a word she'd said. "Well, thank you, Mrs. Alexander. I guess we've taken up enough of your time."
"Certainly," she opened the door for them. "Have a nice day."
"By the way," Stork stopped in the doorway and looked down at her. "Have you had any word from Mr. Alexander?"
"Cord?" she asked, her heart suddenly beating a little faster. "Why would I? I haven't heard a word from him in six months. Do you really think he'd contact me now, after all this time?"
"And you have received no communication at all from him or his lady companion?" Stork asked.
"No," she answered and looked up in his eyes. As their eyes made contact, she started. There was something in his mind about the woman. Something he didn't want her to know.
"Is there something I should know about her?" she asked.
It was Stork's turn to look away. "Mrs. Alexander," he said, taking a step out of the door before turning to look back at her. "I thought we agreed that we wouldn't keep secrets."
Morgan nodded. "Of course," she agreed. Now she knew he was hiding something. But this wasn't the time to press for the answers. She had more serious matters to consider, like what to do about Cord.
"Have a nice day," she offered her hand to Smith and then Stork. "I'm sure we'll talk again."
"Count on it," Stork nodded and left.
Morgan closed the door and leaned back on it. She suddenly wanted more than anything to see Cord and talk to him. Get a grip! she chided herself and pushed away from the door to return to her desk. Seeing him is the last thing you need!
But the thought of him wouldn't leave her mind.
*****
"How in the hell did the FBI know we would be there?" Cord paced around the small kitchen, ranting in frustration. "I'm sure we weren't followed! So, you tell me! How did they know?"
Slats looked at Cord standing rigid with tightly contained anger and no small amount of anxiety. "Get a grip, mhn," he said in a light, easy tone. "You can do no reasoning when you are upside down on the inside."
But Cord was not listening to his friend. His insides churned as he thought about the meeting with Morgan. Talk about a complete fiasco. The FBI showing up had been bad enough but his confrontation with Morgan was the worst.
What really ate at him was the way she so coldly rejected him. From the onset. she was withdrawn and hostile and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get through to her at all.
But the kiss had given him hope. He could still feel her lithe, warm body as he pressed against her. The feel of her breasts crushed against his body, her lips giving way beneath his tortured him like a burning brand in his mind.
He knew he hadn't imagined her response. It had been real, yet as suddenly as it had appeared it also disappeared. In its place was a woman he didn't know; one full of anger and resentment. She discarded him as easily as one might an old worn-out sock.
But I might have been able to reach her if it hadn't been for those damn FBI men! he tried to convince himself. It was easier to vent his hurt and anger on the FBI. That way he didn't have to accept she really didn't want him.
"Your rage has unbalanced you," Slats' voice cut through his thoughts. "It's time we had a toke and a smile."
Cord turned on Slats, his eyes flashing. "You think that's the answer to everything, don't you?"
Slats ignored the heated words. "Sure, man," he smiled. "A hundred million people can't be wrong!"
Cord grunted, unaffected by Slats' attempt to lighten his mood. "I'm going for a ride," he grabbed his leather jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "You guys lie low for a couple of days. I'll be in touch."
He turned to the door and picked up his helmet from the countertop. But he stopped before he opened the door. When he turned around his friends could see the unspoken apology on his face. "Thanks for your help," he said then turned and left.
Jeff looked over at Slats. He was suddenly feeling it was his fault that things hadn't gone well for Cord. Slats nodded as if he, too, were having the same feelings.
"So," Jeff hooked his thumb in the door's direction. "You think I should go after him?"
"No," Slats shook his head, his dark eyes full of understanding. "He's upset about Morgan. That's something he has to work out on his own."
Jeff nodded and sat back down at the table, staring down at the floor and listening to the sounds of Cord's bike fade into the distance.
Cord rode through Slats' neighborhood, looking for any signs of a surveillance team. Once satisfied that his friends were safe, he headed out of town.
Without knowing where he was going, he wound the bike out and let his thoughts race with the wind. For several hours he rode, lost in his thoughts and consumed by his agony.
In surprise he found himself close to home. A sudden longing to be there took hold of him. But he couldn't take a chance on being spotted. He pulled the bike off the road and hid it in a dense copse of trees.
The moon was up, and the sky was clear, so he started out through the woods on foot. When he reached the creek that wound its way onto his property, he followed it. Ghost sat waiting for him at the property line.
"Hey, big fella!" Cord knelt and rubbed the big dog. "How're you doing? I bet you're hungry!"
Ghosyt let out a soft "woof!" in reply and started toward the house. Cord followed along behind, secretly hoping that he'd find Morgan alone there. But the house was dark with no signs of life.
Cord let himself in with a heavy heart and rumbled around for something to give Ghost to eat. He found dog food that'd never been opened, and he filled Ghost's bowl that Morgan had obviously never had the heart to get rid of.
The big animal just sat down and looked at Cord as if to say, "You expect me to eat that stuff?" Cord smiled and went back to the kitchen to open the freezer. Locating some frozen steaks, he pulled one out and put it into the microwave to thaw.
While the steak was defrosting, he checked out the house, moving from room to room. Memories washed over him, making him linger in his search, desperately trying to hold on to the laughter and love he remembered.
The bell on the microwave pulled him back to the present. He returned to the kitchen, took the steak out then walked outside onto the back deck. Handing the steak to Ghost he sat down and watched his friend eat.
"I bet you'd like some more of that," he commented. Ghost just continued to tear at the sirloin, eating in contentment as if everything was exactly as it should be.
Cord realized for the first time in his life what that meant, "as it should be." Looking over at the dog he asked, "You think it will ever be the way it should be for me?"
Ghost finished the steak and looked up. Cord patted him then went back into the kitchen and pulled a couple of more steaks from the freezer. He put them in the microwave ,set the timer and continued his search of the house, making his way upstairs.
He stopped just outside the door of the master bedroom. He didn't know if he could go in, yet he couldn't stop himself. He took a deep breath and walked to the middle of the room.
Her presence haunted the room. Everywhere he looked he could see Morgan. Dressing, brushing her hair, lying on the bed reading; the room swam with her smell and her essen
ce. Morgan's specter swam around him as memories took charge of his mind.
He walked to stand at the foot of the bed and drew in another long breath. His body shook with emotion and finally he couldn't hold back the flood that pressed within him. He sank to his knees. Tears ran down his face as his mind went black with despair.
*****
Cord woke to find himself on the bedroom floor. Once he'd showered and was wearing clean clothes, he went downstairs and found the two steaks still in the microwave. He started a pot of coffee, took the steaks out onto the back porch and put them in Ghost's empty bowl.
"Well, I see somebody's not too proud to eat dog food after all," he remarked as Ghost emerged from the woods. A familiar sound from above his head made him look up. As Cord held out his arm the falcon circled the yard, then landed.
Cord picked up one of the raw steaks from Wolf's bowl and held it out to the bird. She looked at the meat, at Cord, and raised her wings. He threw the meat into the air and watched as the falcon lifted from his arm. Her powerful wings carried her swiftly into the air. Grabbing the meat in her talons she continued her ascent, disappearing over the tops of the trees.
Cord looked around for a moment then looked down at the dog. "You know, big guy, you're right. Things are pretty good around here. I think I'll stay a while." And so, he spent the next few days exploring the woods and gathering his thoughts. Becoming familiar and comfortable being home again.
Cray County, Texas
"Juro," Morgan called out as she descended the stairs. "Where's Victor?"
"He left late last night," Juro explained. "He did not wish you to be disturbed."
"Oh, okay." She'd become accustomed to Victor's sudden unannounced comings and goings. "Well, do you know when he'll be back?"
"Late this evening. Are you going out?"
"Yes, I have a lot to do today," she answered as she walked to the front door, "so I guess I'll see you later."
Juro nodded and watched in silence from the window as Morgan got in the black Lamborghini and pulled away. Turning, he walked into the study and picked up the phone.
