Saving Morgan

by MB Panichi

  I don’t want this evening to end. I just want to hold you, to touch you. God, I can’t believe I’m thinking—and feeling—like this. Shaine found her voice, hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she suddenly felt. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shaine gently brushed baby-fine bangs back from Morgan’s eyes. She heard Morgan’s sharp intake of breath. Morgan’s lips were soft against hers. Warm, sweet breath puffed over her face as they exchanged tentative kisses and Morgan’s arms wound around her waist.

  Shaine held her tightly for long minutes, nuzzling her hair.

  Morgan rested her head against Shaine’s shoulder.

  Shaine didn’t have words for what she felt, unnerved by the onslaught of raw emotion. But she knew that somehow, holding Morgan Rahn felt right.

  Chapter Ten

  After changing into loose shorts and a sleep shirt, Morgan paced around her apartment in a daze until she finally flopped on the sofa and closed her eyes. She could still imagine the warmth of Shaine’s solid body under her hands, taste the softness of her lips.

  I am not looking for a girlfriend, she reminded herself. She shook her head and laughed. Who am I kidding? God, if she doesn’t call me, I’ll call her.

  Over the course of the evening, she’d found herself drawn further and further in, fascinated by the woman across the table. She had sensed nothing shallow or pretentious about Shaine Wendt. It’s her eyes, she decided. I don’t know how you could fake that kind of intensity.

  She was relieved to connect with someone who wasn’t playing games with her, someone who wasn’t going to use her and toss her away. Shaine was different than Gina. Worlds different. I feel safe with her. She ran their conversations through her head.

  Shaine had alluded to some rough times in Earth Guard. She hadn’t said much, but Morgan got the feeling there was a lot of emotion and pain hidden just under the surface. Like when she showed me the dog tags from her friends. What a heavy burden to bear.

  Morgan chewed her lip. Shaine had been trying to share, letting her know she understood about Digger and her mom. Damn. So intense.

  Too wired to sleep, Morgan grabbed the comp pad from the end table and stretched out on the sofa. She logged in, thinking some writing or reading might settle her brain.

  Charri’s avatar popped up on her screen almost immediately. The 3-D image of a pink and magenta-striped jungle cat purred at her. Violet cat eyes blinked, and a deep alto voice growled out of the tiny speaker. “You’re up late, Morgan.”

  Morgan laughed in good-natured consternation and engaged her own avatar as she spoke into the pickup, “Hey, Charri.” She knew on her friend’s screen, her blue winged dragon spoke in hushed, sibilant tones. “What are you doing lurking around the net?”

  The magenta tiger chuckled. “How was dinner?”

  Morgan sighed heavily, purposely trying to sound bored. “Come on, it was burgers and beer after work, not freakin’ dinner.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So spill.”

  Morgan snickered. She enjoyed pulling Charri’s chain. “We ate, we talked, she’s gonna play on the ball team, and we made out like teenagers in the street.”

  “What? Oh, my God! Morgan!”

  Morgan laughed.

  “I am calling you. We need to talk.”

  Two seconds later the com system pinged. Morgan acknowledged, “Video on, main screen.” She laughed at Charri’s incredulous expression. “What?” she asked innocently.

  “I told you so! Told you she liked you!”

  Morgan folded her arms behind her head. “Yeah, whatever, Char.”

  “How in the hell did you get from ‘it’s not dinner’ to kissing in the street?”

  “I don’t know. It just happened.” Morgan shook her head. “I didn’t expect the night to go that way. But Shaine’s—” She hesitated, trying to find words. She finally settled on sounding like an idiot. “She’s really great.”

  Charri’s eyes narrowed. “Call me overprotective, but you’re okay, right?”

  Morgan couldn’t stop the blush or the grin. “I’m good. I really like her.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think I can explain it.”

  For a long moment, Charri studied her face. Finally, she snickered. “One date and you’re whipped,” she accused.

  Morgan sighed. “Yeah, probably.”

  “I hope this works out, Morgan. I really, really don’t want to see you getting destroyed again.”

  Morgan’s smile faltered. “Yeah, I know.”

  “You’re gonna see her tomorrow, right?”

  Morgan burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Shaine hummed contentedly while she tapped her key code into the lock on her apartment door and walked through. She knew she had a stupid grin on her face. She felt like she’d floated the two blocks between Morgan’s apartment and her own. It was insane, and she didn’t care.

  “Lights.” As she glanced at the com center to check for messages, the vid-screen blinked with an incoming call. She didn’t recognize the calling code. Maybe it was Morgan? She grinned. “Take call,” she said to the voice recognition system.

  The screen cleared, showing a dark-skinned man with a graying crewcut and cold black eyes.

  Shaine blinked, her breath stopping as dread instantly replaced the warm excitement she’d been feeling. There was no good reason for Duncan Rogan, head of Mann-Maru Security, to contact her. Only bad ones. Her stomach clenched. “Rogan.” Schooling her expression to remain empty, she stepped in front of the screen, her shoulders automatically straightening.

  “Wendt.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “I have a job for you.”

  She took a long breath. “I don’t do that anymore. I’m a mechanic, remember?”

  His black eyes flashed a warning. “You’ll be providing protection without the target’s knowledge.”

  She glared at him. “No.”

  “I am not asking, Wendt.”

  Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “There must be somebody besides me who can handle your dirty work for you.”

  “Not someone who’s already in place, and not with your—affinity—for the subject.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Believe me, Wendt, this is an offer you just can’t refuse.” He smiled smugly. “Don’t even think you can argue with me.”

  “Bastard.” She closed her eyes. After a moment, she met his expectant gaze. No point arguing a losing battle. He owned her life and they both knew it. “Fine. So tell me what I’m doing.”

  “I need you to play bodyguard for a few days. Your mark does not know she’s in danger, nor should she know you’re guarding her. I expect your assignment will be precautionary only, but the situation could escalate.”

  “Who am I babysitting?” Probably some freaking high-ranking client of Maruchek’s who’s shown up unexpectedly. Wonderful.

  Rogan smiled coldly. “You’ll be protecting Morgan Rahn.”

  Shaine blinked again. “Morgan?” Her stomach plummeted. All the warning bells in her head went off at once. “Why?” she demanded.

  “You don’t need to know why. Just make sure she stays alive, Wendt. She is important. I don’t care how you cover it. Just do it. There are security cameras in her building. You’ll have access to those feeds. I’m sending the live links now.”

  “I’m not your fucking security bitch anymore. You’ve got half a dozen agents you could use for this, Rogan. Use one of them.”

  “She knows you. There is an established level of trust. I need someone in place when she’s working and someone who can keep an eye on her when she’s not. You are the obvious choice.” He gave her a darkly amused look. “In any case, I imagine you’ll enjoy spending more time with Ms. Rahn, yes?”

  Shaine felt herself flush. Fucking bastard. She forced down her anger. “Are there any other mission parameters I should be aware of? For instance, why is Morgan a target?”

  “I told you, that is information you d
on’t need to know.”

  She walked away to pace, her thoughts in motion. After a few seconds, she turned to the vid-screen. “The incident that took out her crewmate and the guy at the club—are they related?”

  Rogan shook his head. “We’re working that angle, but I don’t think so.”

  “Great. Who’s after her, Rogan?”

  He smiled tightly. “Just do the job. I am not going to tell you more over an unsecured line. Keep her alive, Wendt.” He killed the connection.

  Shaine dropped heavily onto the sofa. “Fuck you, Rogan.” Her fists clenched and unclenched. Rogan would never leave her alone, never let her go. She groaned and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. I’m living a lie.

  She’d talked Rogan into letting her retrain as a maintenance worker. In her mind, she’d walked away from doing undercover security work, walked away from the icy, empty life of a corporate hitman. She thought she’d have her life back. She thought she could be a normal person. But Mann-Maru Security still owned her. She would have no life of her own, not as long as Rogan thought she might be useful. And once she wasn’t useful she’d probably just be dead.

  The com beeped. She opened her eyes to squint at the screen. An icon flashed in the upper right corner. Data package incoming, probably the links and access codes to the security feeds Rogan promised.

  Shaine grabbed the comp pad off the coffee table and tapped a couple of commands to link into her main system feeds. The vid-screen on the wall duplicated itself on the pad. She opened the message icon. The contents were what she expected, a set of links to Morgan’s apartment building’s cameras.

  She opened each link in sequence, her attention split between the pad screen and the main vid-screen in front of her. Each link opened a separate camera feed. The first view showed the stairs going into Morgan’s building and a bit of the street out front. The second showed an empty hallway lined with doors. A third window, then a fourth popped up, mostly hidden behind the first two. She tapped them to the front.

  Two camera views crossed each other, one from each end of Morgan’s studio apartment. A wide-angle shot included the kitchen, looking toward the living room, the door into a bathroom, and the bed built into the back wall. The second camera looked back at the apartment’s entrance and the kitchen. Both feeds had icons allowing her to pan left and right, up and down, and zoom. There was an audio feed as well, but she left it off.

  Shaine saw Morgan sprawled on her stomach on the overstuffed sofa, propped on her elbows and leaning over a comp pad while she scribbled intently with a glowing lime-green stylus. She wore gray shorts and an oversized shirt. Her feet were bare.

  The living room camera caught Morgan from the front. Her eyes remained hidden by her bangs as she looked down, but her hair didn’t hide her wide grin. She stopped writing, said something, paused, and replied before going back to her writing.

  Talking to someone online, Shaine decided. She almost reached for the zoom icon to see the avatar on Morgan’s screen and wondered briefly what Morgan used as a net persona. She shook her head abruptly. Fuck. I should not be seeing this. This is wrong on so many levels. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman on the screen.

  Her brain frantically worked the puzzle while she watched. Why was Rogan concerned with Morgan Rahn? Something Morgan knew? Something she’d seen? Something to do with the incident that had taken her friend Digger’s life? Rogan’s interest made no sense. What would a line mechanic know that could possibly be a threat or cause her to be threatened?

  Shaine cracked her knuckles one by one. The whole situation sucked. Rogan said Morgan couldn’t know she was being stalked or targeted. Which meant she’d have to lie about her intentions. Of course, the truth didn’t sound any better. Gee, can I spend some time with you because I’m supposed to be guarding you? And it’s easier to do in person than from my place, where I’m just a voyeur. She supposed she could come up with a plausible excuse not to meet Morgan, which would eliminate having to say anything at all. But I really want to see her.

  She played back Rogan’s words in her head, trying to come up with any pieces he’d left out. There had to be a connection. Morgan said her dad worked for Mann-Maru for decades—was considered a “lifer.” Maybe that was the tie-in? But she’d gotten the impression Morgan’s dad had been a line worker, too, never in the kind of position that could be a threat to anyone.

  Shaine scowled. She had an ace up her sleeve—a friend she had avoided since she left her security position. If she wanted answers, she could trust only one person: Kyle Ellerand.

  Resigning herself to old patterns, she keyed in an encrypted line and tapped his calling code into her pad.

  After a longish pause, her mousy little intel source appeared on-screen, greeting her with a wide smile as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, Wendt, long time no see.”

  She couldn’t help smiling back. “Hey, Kyle, how’s it hangin’?”

  He smirked. “Probably better than yours, if you’re actually calling me,” he observed.

  “What, I can’t just call an old friend?”

  “Not on an encrypted line out of the blue.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. So what’s Rogan got going?”

  “Not much that I’m aware of. Nothing anyone is up in arms about, anyway. Just same old, same old. Pirates out in the Belt again. Why? What have you heard?”

  “Does the name Morgan Rahn mean anything to you?”

  He thought a second, then turned to an off-screen monitor. She heard the clicking of his fingers on a keyboard. “She’s part of that crew who lost a guy on Moon Base. Why?”

  “Rogan informed me I’m supposed to keep an eye on her. For some reason, she’s become a target. He wouldn’t say who was after her, or why. I just got assigned to her crew last week. Could be Rogan’s intervention, could be coincidence. I need to know what’s going on.”

  Ellerand had been scanning the console to his right while she spoke. Absently, he flipped his hair out of his eyes again. “Hmm…Interesting…there’s an exchange between Maruchek and Rogan about the security report on that incident being leaked. Maruchek is furious about names and photos showing up in the report, but that’s all there is. No follow-up.” He poked around some more. “Nothing else on the subject. No other mention of a Morgan Rahn, either. If there were any related conversations, they’ve been cleaned. I’d have to look closer to be sure.”

  “If they’re deleting and cleaning up behind themselves, there’s something going on.”

  “I agree.” He reached for a keyboard and started working. Shaine waited, watching his expression shift. After a few minutes, he turned a curious look on her. “Uh, Shaine, does Morgan Rahn look familiar to you?” he asked slowly.

  “I’ve never met her before now, if that’s what you mean. Why?”

  “I think I’ve found the problem. Take a look at this.” The screen shifted to two photos side by side.

  Shaine’s heart stopped. “Holy fucking shit,” she breathed.

  On the left was a forty-year-old press photo of Tarm Maruchek and his wife, now long dead. On the right, Morgan Rahn’s corporate ID picture. Morgan could have been Arella Maruchek’s twin. Same eyes, same face, same expression. Damn! How had she not seen it before? How many times she had seen holos of Maruchek’s dead wife in his office, on his desk, on the wall. Was Morgan some long- lost relative? She took a breath, trying to settle her thoughts.

  Ellerand’s fingers flew over his pad, pulling data. When he looked up, his expression showed a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Okay, I may be jumping to conclusions here, but it all fits. Arella Maruchek was murdered by a sniper twenty-eight years ago. She was pregnant at the time and it was reported both she and the baby were killed. There was a lot of hush-hush around the incident and a closed casket funeral. Never found the sniper.”

  Shaine stared at him. “Morgan’s the baby.”

  Ellerand nodded. “I’d put money on it. Rogan and Maruchek are eithe
r afraid word will get out, or they know it already has.”

  Fucking hell. It’s a sure bet Morgan has no idea. Does she even know she’s adopted? “Find out what’s going on, Kyle. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  He studied her and finally nodded. “I’ll get back to you. Give me a day.” He closed the connection.

  Shaine sat back on the sofa with a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. She had no doubt Morgan was Tarm Maruchek’s daughter. Too many coincidences for it to be anything but true. How did she get involved in this shit? Could she not live a normal life just for a little while? I kissed Tarm Maruchek’s daughter. And I enjoyed every moment of it. And I want to do it again.

  Her stomach clenched. She tasted bile at the back of her throat. I just cannot get away from these people. Part of her wanted to lash out and start breaking heads, another part wanted to curl up in a fetal ball and wait until it was over. A third part wanted to grab Morgan and run off with her. She opened her eyes. Her gaze slid automatically to the camera feeds from Morgan’s apartment.

  Morgan laughed. She set aside the pad and rolled effortlessly off the couch onto her feet. After a brief sojourn to the bathroom, she crossed to the bed and curled up in a colorful quilt, wrapping herself around her pillow. She reached up and tapped a control over her head to kill the lights. Washed in the green of the night vision cameras, Morgan looked like a child with just the top of her dark head and her nose poking out of her warm burrow.

  Shaine wanted to reach out to touch Morgan, to hold her, while at the same time sickened that she was even watching. She sighed heavily, knowing she wasn’t going to sleep tonight. You don’t know the storm that’s coming, Morgan Rahn. And I’m sorry you’re going to get caught in the middle of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan hummed to herself as she threw a change of clothes into her small pack. She dug through a drawer for matching socks, grabbed her workout sneakers from the corner where she’d kicked them and sat down on the edge of the bed to pull them on.

  As promised, Shaine had called. They were getting together after she finished her routine at the gym. Initially, Shaine had sounded more reserved than she’d expected, but that didn’t last long. They’d made no decisions on what they would do—dinner, maybe a movie at Shaine’s place, or wander over to Rose’s for a drink.