“That’s it. We’re ready to head out,” she said, cutting off her sister’s rambling diatribe.
“Did you bring luggage? I can get it for you if you did.”
“Thanks, Ben, but the carry-on is it.”
“Will that be enough? I’ve got some of your old clothes packed away,” Sue offered. “If you need more, I can bring them to Helen’s for you.”
“Her place is an hour drive from yours. I wouldn’t want to be a bo—”
“Wouldn’t go there if I were you,” Jackson whispered into Morgan’s ear, cutting off the word he knew she was going to say. The word she’d used over and over again during the time she’d been speaking to her parents.
“Right. Thanks.” She smiled, looking into Jackson’s eyes for the first time since they’d left the plane. The black-and-green bruises on her cheek now covered the entire left side of her face and were inching up toward the outer corner of her eye. Somehow, she still managed to look lovely, her eyes pure icy-blue surrounded by thick black lashes. Usually, Jackson preferred statuesque blondes to short brunettes, but there was something about Morgan that made him want to look and keep looking. Something that drew his eye again and again.
It wasn’t the bruises.
Wasn’t the eyes.
It was her.
Jackson shouldn’t be intrigued. Morgan was no different than any other client he’d worked with, and he needed to treat her with the same respectful distance he’d cultivated during his time on the force and his years working as a detective.
Needed to, but was having trouble doing it.
He frowned, walking with the family as they made their way through the airport. The last thing he wanted was to get involved more deeply in Morgan’s life than he already was. Protecting her, helping her find the disk Cody had hidden, those were things he was willing to do. Noticing how beautiful she looked, that was something entirely different.
Yet he’d found himself noticing again and again.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but for now he had plenty of other things to worry about. Once he got Morgan settled at her aunt’s house, he was going to plug into the Internet and start digging for answers. Someone somewhere knew what had gotten Cody Bradshaw killed. Jackson planned to find out who, he planned to find out what and then he planned to go back to New York and his job.
It’s what he planned, but he’d learned a long time ago that plans didn’t always work out the way they were meant to. God had a sense of humor. That’s what Lindsey used to say. Maybe she was right. Maybe He did. Jackson wasn’t one to spend much time thinking about God one way or another. Though lately he’d found himself wondering if he should. Life was finite. It had a beginning and an end. He’d spent the first thirty-two years of his life pursuing his career and his passions. If he had only one year left, one month, one week, would he spend it the same way?
Probably not.
Lindsey’s death had been devastating, but it had opened Jackson’s eyes. Let him see the truth about the life he’d chosen. What it hadn’t done was to show him a better, more fulfilling way to live.
Then again, maybe that wasn’t something that could be found. Maybe it was something that had to be learned. One day at a time. One experience at a time.
Double doors led out into a parking garage, where the rental car was located. Jackson pushed the doors open, and stepped outside, inhaling clean, cold air and the subtle scent of exhaust as he surveyed the silent garage.
“Everything look okay?” Benjamin stepped out behind him, and Jackson nodded.
“For now.”
“Then let’s move out while we’ve got the opportunity. You guys ready?” he called out to his family, and they moved into the garage. Richard, Sue and Lauren close together. Morgan just a little apart.
And despite everything he’d been telling himself about keeping his distance, Jackson moved close, offering her the connection she didn’t seem to have with her family. She glanced up, met his eyes and smiled a smile that Jackson didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing.
For some reason that didn’t worry him nearly as much as he thought it should.
TEN
Morgan hated goodbyes. The long, drawn-out hugs, the easy promises about keeping in touch, they were things she liked to avoid. Unfortunately, they were things the rest of her family seemed to love.
She wasn’t wearing a watch, but she was sure if she checked the clock on her cell phone, she’d see that she’d been standing next to the rental car, saying goodbye to her family for the better part of fifteen minutes.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive some clothes over to Helen’s tonight? I’m sure there are things at the house that will fit you,” her mother said for what must have been the tenth time. Morgan wasn’t sure whether she felt more touched or frustrated.
“I’ve got enough clothes in the carry-on for a couple of days.”
“I’ll bring some tomorrow then.”
“That’s fine.”
“And I’ll bring you the huckleberry pie I made this afternoon.”
“You made huckleberry pie?”
“It’s still your favorite, isn’t it?”
“It has been since the day you brought me home and fed it to me with dinner.”
“You still remember that?”
“How could I forget? After everyone went to bed, I snuck downstairs and ate two more pieces.”
“That was you? I thought for sure your brothers had been at it.”
“It was me,” Morgan said, smiling a little with the memory. Pain shot through her jaw and lip, raced up her cheekbone and lodged in her temple, reminding her of just how anxious she was to take some of the heavy-duty painkillers the doctor had prescribed, then climb into bed and pull the covers over her head.
“Then I’m glad I decided to bake today. It’s like a second homecoming. How about I come around noon—”
“Mrs. Alexandria, I know Morgan appreciates the offer, but we can’t take any chances that someone will follow you. It may be best if I bring Morgan to your house.”
“Call me Sue. And, I hadn’t thought about the possibility of being followed. I certainly don’t want to put Morgan in any more danger.”
“How about we call you, Mom? First thing in the morning, we’ll discuss it. Okay?” Morgan tried to end the conversation, but doubted it would work. Her parents were two of the most compassionate, loving people she knew. When someone they loved was hurting, they wanted more than anything to take the pain away.
Unfortunately, in Morgan’s case, that was an impossibility.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” her father said. “How about we all just meet at the church? We can have brunch afterward, and then you can go back to Helen’s place?” He made the suggestion as if he really expected Morgan to go to church with green-and-black bruises all over her face.
“I can’t go to church looking like this,” she responded, gesturing to the painful bruises.
“Why not?”
“Because people will stare.”
“And they didn’t stare when you were fifteen and decided to give yourself a Mohawk?”
“That was different.”
“How so?”
“I was young and too stupid to want anonymity.”
“No one is going to care if you’ve got a few bruises,” Lauren interjected. “Peggy Harrison had a face-lift two weeks ago and showed up at church a few days later, her skin all bruised and puffy looking. If she can show up looking like that, you can show up looking like you do.”
“Lauren!”
“What? It’s only the truth, Mom, and you know it.”
“Knowing it and saying it are two different things.”
“Well, I’m just trying to get my sis to come to church with me. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”
“We’ll discuss it at home.”
“But you are coming. Right, Morgan?” Lauren asked, her eyes so filled with hope and enthusiasm, Morgan didn’t h
ave the heart to say no.
“Sure. Just for the service, though. Sunday school starts way too early for me. I’ll see you then,” she said, opening the car door and hoping her family would get the hint.
“We’ll see you then, sweetie.” Her father leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then stepped back. “I think we’d better head back home and let Morgan and Jackson be on their way.”
Another quick burst of goodbyes and Morgan’s family was off, heading across the parking lot, their voices echoing through the space as Morgan watched them go.
“Ready to get out of here?” Jackson asked after the sound of their departure had faded, his eyes filled with amusement and a warmth that seemed to spear straight into Morgan’s heart. She looked away, not wanting him to see what she was feeling.
“I’ve been ready for fifteen minutes. Thanks for everything you’ve done, but I think I’ll be okay on my own now.”
“You’re exhausted. So am I. Let’s not waste time fighting an argument that I’m going to win.” He sounded as weary as Morgan felt, and he was right. They’d been traveling for most of the day, had been up for most of the previous night. The time for arguing was long past. He was here, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to try to send him away.
“Maybe you should drive.”
“You’re giving in pretty easily,” he said, taking the key she offered.
“Like you said, we’re both exhausted. I don’t have the energy to do anything but get in the car and go.” She climbed into the passenger seat, her body heavy with fatigue, her mind numb. She needed to call Helen and let her know they were coming. She wasn’t sure what her aunt’s reaction would be. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and things hadn’t gotten any better in the years since Morgan’s marriage.
“Where are we headed?” Jackson asked as he started the engine.
“Golden Apple. It’s about eighty miles from here. My aunt is two miles down a dirt road just outside of town.”
“You know the address?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a GPS unit. Want to input it?”
Morgan fumbled to do as Jackson suggested, her fingers shaking as she punched in the information. Fear, adrenaline, anxiety, relief. She wasn’t sure which she felt more. Once she finally managed to input the address, she pulled her cell phone out and dialed Helen’s number.
“Hello?” Morgan’s aunt answered on the third ring, and Morgan tensed, unsure of her reception. It wasn’t that Helen had ever been unkind, but the silences between them when they’d attempted to talk had always seemed filled with Helen’s disapproval of Morgan’s decision to marry Cody.
She’d been right to disapprove. That was obvious now, but the silence was still there, and Morgan had no idea how to break it.
“Hi, Aunt Helen. It’s Morgan.”
“Morgan! Your mom said there’s been some kind of trouble and that you were coming to town. Are you okay? What happened?”
“Cody…It’s hard to explain. Listen, I hate to ask, but I need a place to stay for a while.”
“You’re not staying with your parents?”
“There are some people after me. The first place they’ll look is Mom and Dad’s.”
“Then you’re welcome here. You know my door is always open to you.”
“I appreciate it.”
“When will you be here? I’ll need to make up the guest bed.”
“An hour and a half. And I’m not alone. I’ve got a…” Friend didn’t seem the right word. Man was too general. “…private detective with me. He’s going to do some research on Cody. See if he can figure out what’s going on.”
“I see. He’ll have to sleep on the pullout couch in the den.”
“I’m sure he won’t mind,” she said, glancing at Jackson, who’d followed the GPS directions onto 1–90.
“Mind what?”
“Sleeping on my aunt’s pullout couch.”
“I’ve slept on worse.”
“He says he’s fine with it, Aunt Helen.”
“I’ll get it ready. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat.”
“I’m too tired to know how I feel.” Except for the fact that she was in pain, but Morgan decided not to mention that.
“I’ll put together something. If you’re hungry when you get here, you can eat it. If you’re not, it’ll keep until tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Aunt Helen.”
“You don’t have to thank me, sweetie. We’re family.” Helen hung up, and Morgan shoved the phone back in her purse.
Family.
The word seemed to hang in the air, whisper into Morgan’s heart. Family and home were two things she’d wanted more than anything, but they were the two things she wasn’t sure she’d ever really have. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe what Helen was saying. It wasn’t even that she didn’t believe they really were family, but there was something missing. Two things. A brother and sister who had been ripped from Morgan’s life. Maybe she should have been able to forget them, to move on and to embrace the new family she’d been given. But she hadn’t, and that made it so much more difficult to accept the love the Alexandrias offered.
“You’re quiet,” Jackson said, and Morgan could hear the questions in his voice.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Family.”
“You’ve got a good one.”
“I know.”
“So why are you so uncomfortable around them?”
“I’m not.”
“Sure you are. They laugh and talk and you hang back. Like you’re not really a part of any of it.”
“I’m exhausted, and my family’s enthusiasm can be overwhelming.”
“My family is the same way. They mean well, though.”
“I know, and most of the time I enjoy it. Noise is a lot more comforting than silence. When I was a kid…” Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together. Talking about her life in Latvia wasn’t something she made a habit of doing.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re just going to leave me hanging?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad. We’ve got another fifty miles to go, and I’m tired. A good story might help me keep my eyes open.”
“Are you playing the sympathy card?”
“It was that or the I-saved-your-life card, and I didn’t think you’d go for that one.” He shot a grin in her direction, but the darkness couldn’t hide the deep shadows beneath his eyes or the lines of fatigue that bracketed his mouth. She wanted to smooth them from his face, let her fingers slide over his stubbled jaw.
And that terrified her.
She clenched her fists to keep from doing what she shouldn’t and focused on the road, the review mirror, the trees that flew by outside the window. Anything but Jackson.
“So, how about it? Want to share in the interest of keeping me awake and us safe?”
No, but she’d do it in the interest of keeping her mind off things she shouldn’t be dwelling on. Like how nice it was to be making the trip to Aunt Helen’s with someone else, or how being with Jackson felt comfortable and exciting all at the same time.
“It’s not that interesting of a tale, but if you’re that bent on hearing it—”
“I am.”
“When I was a kid, we lived in an apartment in Latvia.”
“We?”
“My sister, brother and mother. It was a small place. I remember one big room with a kitchen and a closet and a small bathroom with a tub. My sister and brother and I slept on the floor. My mother slept on the couch when she was home. There wasn’t much to eat, and there weren’t a lot of blankets. I can remember being very hungry and very cold.”
“You had a tough time.”
“I had the two people that meant the most in the world to me. Katia and Nikolai. When my mother was gone, we were typical kids. Loud and silly and always looking for trouble, but when my mother came home, we we
re as quiet as mice. I can remember Nikolai saying when Mother came home drunk, shh, little sisters, be as quiet as mice.”
“He was older than you?”
“By five years. He used to make sure we had food to eat and clean clothes to wear.”
“What happened to him?” Jackson asked, the question stabbing another hole in Morgan’s heart. She didn’t know what had happened. Didn’t know if Nikolai was alive or dead, happy or sad. After a decade of searching fruitlessly for Katia and Nikolai, she’d given up hope that she’d ever find out.
“I don’t know. Our little sister was adopted by an American couple. I remember the day they came for her. She was shrieking as the orphanage director carried her away. A month later, the Alexandrias came to meet me. That was the last time I saw Nikolai.”
“He was fifteen?”
“About that.”
“I’ll help you find him and your sister.”
Say no thank you. Tell him you don’t want help.
That’s what she knew she should do, but it wasn’t what she wanted to do. Jackson was a private detective. If there was even a slim possibility that he could help her find Nikolai and Katia, could she really tell him not to?
There was more to it than that.
There was a sense Morgan had that if anyone could find her siblings, it would be Jackson. That somehow she could trust him to want to find them as much as she did and that she could count on him to search as hard as she had.
Trust him? Count on him?
“I spent a decade trying to find them, Jackson. I’m not sure there’s any stone left unturned.”
“It can’t hurt to look.” He was right, of course, and no matter how afraid she was that she was getting in too deep, Morgan had to let him try.
“I guess it can’t. How much do you charge?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t work for free.”
“Who said anything about working? I just said I’d try to find them for you.” He glanced in the review mirror again and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a car coming up behind us.”
“You think we should be worried about it?”
Running for Cover Page 9
