by Cate Beauman
“I didn’t think the bitter morning-after bitch routine was your style, Morgan.”
She stopped in her tracks, whirled, slapped him—hard. He grabbed her wrist, ran his tongue around the inside of his stinging cheek.
Her green eyes glowed. “How dare you, you son of a bitch. You’ve got a hell of a nerve critiquing my after-sex style. I foolishly expected a small amount of affection from my partner afterward. But why mess up a good, cheap fuck with conversation and emotion when you can roll off of someone and go to sleep.”
His hand tightened on her wrist. “I didn’t fuck you, and there was nothing cheap about last night.”
Morgan yanked her arm free of his hold, started into the trees. “Really? You could’ve fooled me. That’s the interesting thing about sex, Hunter. There are so many different ways to interpret it.”
He threw on his pack, doused the flame with his water bottle, hurried after her. “Morgan, wait a minute.”
She kept walking, picking her way down the rocky terrain. “Just stay away from me. When we get to the station, I’ll call my father and you can be on your merry way.” Her voice wavered as she dashed her hand over her cheek, never looking back.
He would’ve stopped her, but what was the point? She was right. He kept hurting her, didn’t know how to stop.
He never stuck around for the after-sex snuggle, at least not over the past couple of years. The women he slept with knew that. There was always easy affection and fun, with no strings attached.
When Morgan lay against him afterward, he’d felt strings like a noose around the neck. The whole experience had been different with her. She’d been so responsive, so giving. When she’d cried out for him, lost in her own passion, it had made him want to give her more. When he’d moved inside her, staring into her big, green eyes, she’d looked at him as if he were all that mattered. It made him not only want her but need her. He didn’t want to need her; he didn’t want to need anyone.
And yet, he did. He’d never met anyone quite like Morgan. She intrigued as often as she irritated. She was not only beautiful, but funny, intelligent, and a hell of a lot more than the rich-bitch he’d accused her of being. Her bold, independent streak kept him on his toes, and hell if he didn’t like it. He wanted to hold her close more than strangle her these days, and that just couldn’t be.
It was probably best she thought what she did, even though the night before meant more to him than he wanted to admit. It was time to move on. He’d get her home and they’d go their separate ways.
He blew out a long breath, worried when the thought didn’t make him as happy as it once did.
They walked for hours at a good clip through dense forest and wide-open valleys. The snow-capped Rockies that left Morgan awe-struck days before, lost most of their appeal as her focus shifted from nature’s pristine beauty to getting the hell out of Yellowstone and away from Hunter. As they walked, Morgan kept her distance, talking only when necessary.
His nasty words continued to echo in her mind. Fuming, she put more effort into each step. He had one hell of a nerve. What a jerk. What had she been thinking?
“Hey, we should stop and take a break,” Hunter called. “We need to check the map, change your bandage. A little lunch wouldn’t hurt either.”
She wanted to ignore him, to keep walking but shrugged instead, unwilling to let him see that his earlier comments still bothered her. “Fine. Let’s stop over by those rocks. It looks nice and shady.”
He nodded. “We’ll do the bandage first, then take care of the rest.”
“Okay.” Morgan sat on a large rock shaded by several tall pines, closed her eyes, let out a long sigh. Her weary body sagged as she rested her back against the boulder. She’d been so distracted by her dark thoughts, she hadn’t realized how tired she really was.
Morgan opened her eyes again, watched Hunter take a long drink of water before pulling the first aid kit from his pack. He sanitized his hands, moved close, until she could smell the Campsuds in his hair.
He unwrapped the bandage, pulled the piece of gauze from the wound. “Wow, okay, now we’re getting somewhere. This already looks a little better. A lot of the deep redness is gone. I don’t see any signs of pus or drainage. I think this will be as good as new in a couple of days.”
She lost the thread of their conversation as she studied Hunter kneeling before her. The day’s growth of dark blond beard accentuated the bold blue of his eyes. She itched to run her fingers over the rough stubble, to press her finger into the deep dimple in the center of his chin and have him look at her the way he had the night before. Having him so close, while he brushed his hands gently over hers, made her want to pull him close.
She cursed herself a thousand times and desperately tried to carry on the conversation he started. “Um, you seem to know what you’re talking about.”
He glanced up, meeting her gaze straight on. “Yeah, they give Force Recon pretty advanced medical training.” He looked down again, swabbed the wound with antiseptic. “Sometimes it’s not enough though.”
She frowned. What did he mean? She was about to ask but decided not to; he wouldn’t answer anyway.
After Hunter secured a new bandage, they ate lunch, studied the map.
“It looks like we’re about fifteen miles from the station. We’ll be back by nightfall, easy.”
Morgan swallowed a bite of apple. “Good; then all of this will be over.”
“Should be close.”
Because it was easier to be civil, Morgan continued. “I want a real meal and a hot shower. Steak and potatoes with grilled veggies.” She groaned. “God, that sounds like heaven. I can hardly wait. When we get back, we’ll tell Robert and Miles about the mine and—”
“No.”
Poised to bite into her apple again, she stopped. “What do you mean? Of course we will. They have to take care of this situation—immediately.”
“That’s not how we’re going to handle this. We’re going to grab our stuff, get in the car, and go to the airport. We’ll call your father when we get in the air.”
“I don’t understand. Why would we do that? The rangers are right here.” Her eyes never left his as she waited for his explanation.
“Can we do things the way I want without all the damn questions? Just once, could we try it that way?”
“Yes, that’s right, you don’t like questions.” She stood, put on her pack. “If this is how you want to handle things, fine, but you don’t have to fly back to D.C. with me. I can call my father and take care of everything from here on out. This is a federal issue. You did your part, now I get to do mine.”
“Morgan, I’m coming with you. My job isn’t technically over until my principal is out of danger. I will officially consider you out of harm’s way when we’ve contacted your father and you’re back in D.C.”
Her stomach sank. “Your principal?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, security jargon. You know, my client.”
His client. “Yeah, I got it in one.” There was no heat in her words, just the acceptance of what was. He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d slapped her. She took a step, started walking off.
He grabbed her arm. “Damn it, you know I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“No, Hunter, I don’t know much of anything when it comes to you.” She tried to pull away.
He yanked her back until they were face to face. “Wait.” He jammed his free hand through his hair in a gesture that screamed frustration. “Listen to me. I didn’t mean to hurt… Have-have dinner with me when we get back to D.C.”
She wanted to say yes, almost did, but what was the point? They’d eat, then he’d leave and she would never see him again. It was time to put an end to this here and now. “As your client, I think we’ve probably mixed more than enough business with pleasure, don’t you?” She broke free of his hold. “Let’s get going. I want a shower before we board a plane.” Turning, she walked off.
CHAPTER 22
&nbs
p; HUNTER STUFFED THE FOLDED MAP in the side pocket of his pack, glanced at his watch. He and Morgan were making good time. They were two miles from the ranger’s station; just as he thought, they’d be back long before nightfall.
Vivid pink painted the horizon as the sun began its descent toward the Rockies. The silhouette of massive mountains against the shock of color made a spectacular picture. Hunter took it all in, thrilled this would be his last night in Montana. There wasn’t much he would miss about this place, but the sunsets never disappointed.
As they walked in the woods, he caught glimpses of the valley through the trees. The wide, open space beyond was a welcome sight after hours in dense forest.
Spending time in the woods had never bothered him before. He’d spent months in the wilderness during his military training, but everything was different now. He needed to get home, to put his life back on an even keel. Since he’d laid eyes on Morgan, nothing had been the same. He was afraid it never would be.
He tried to shrug off the troublesome feelings he couldn’t shake without success. And like a lifeline for his racing mind, he recognized the massive boulder he and Morgan had passed as they left the trail days before. They were close now—about a half-mile if that.
They skirted the perimeter of the enormous rock, stepped to the walking path overgrown with ankle-high grass.
Hunter stayed two steps behind Morgan, watching her firm calf muscles bunch in time with her gait—which had slowed considerably over the last hour. Their breaks throughout the day had been quick, few and far between. The lack of rest and her heavy pack were taking their toll.
He fell into step beside her, and in the name of distraction, attempted easy conversation he knew she would rather do without. She’d thrown up a wall hours before he hadn’t been able to crack through. It bugged the hell out of him. “I sure wish we could stick around for those steaks you were talking about earlier. We’ll stop for something good when we get closer to Bozeman.”
She spared him a glance, kept walking.
He continued. “We might not be able to get a flight out tonight—more than likely we won’t. Maybe they’ll have a room at the place we stayed by the airport.”
“Make it rooms and that’ll be fine.”
“Sorry, you’re stuck with me for the next day or two. If we stay over, we’ll be sharing. You can put up with me for one more night.”
“You seem pretty sure of that.”
“Look, I’ve obviously handled things poorly—”
Hunter fell silent. A sudden wave of unease washed over him, skittering along his shoulder blades. His stomach pitched, and he stopped in his tracks. Nothing good ever happened when he felt the dreaded sensations.
“Morgan, stop.”
She did, automatically stepping closer to him.
He placed his body in front of hers, took his gun from the holster, searched the thick vegetation. “We have to move. We’re too open right now.”
“Open to what? To who?”
“I don’t know. Get behind those rocks until I do.” He pointed to a large grouping of boulders just beyond the tree line. He grabbed her hand and they ran.
They crouched behind their cover. Hunter dug through his pack until he found his binoculars.
Morgan grabbed hers too. “What are you looking for? If you tell me, I can help.” She put the binoculars to her eyes. “Someone’s coming. I think it’s…yes, look, it’s Robert.”
Robert walked down the path in his service uniform, stopped where Morgan and Hunter had moments before. He looked at the ground, his eyes trailing to the pile of rocks. He turned toward the forest behind him, made a waving motion.
“Hunter, what is he doing?”
He didn’t answer. He watched Robert pull a pistol from his belt as two police officers emerged through the trees.
“Shit, they’re onto us. We made tracks in the grass.” Hunter dropped his binoculars long enough to slide the rack on his gun, waiting. “Stay down, Morgan.”
A bullet pinged off the rocks in front of them. Morgan threw her hands over her mouth, stifling a scream.
Hunter shoved his knee against her shoulder, pushing her further down, dropped the binoculars he held one-handed and fired. The bullet hit one of the officers’ kneecaps. The man fell to the ground, screaming.
Two more bullets flew in rapid succession, ricocheting off the rocks. Tiny pebbles bounced backward, nicking Hunter in the cheek, stinging on impact. Blood dribbled. He swiped at it with his shoulder.
The uninjured cop ran from the cover of one tree to a large pine just feet away.
Hunter zeroed in on his target. He fired once, hitting the officer in the right foot, fired a second time while the man fell forward, severing his Achilles heel on the opposite foot.
Two down, but he couldn’t find Robert. Where was the bastard? He bent forward, picking up the binoculars he’d dropped, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye just as Morgan screamed.
Robert lunged around the side of the rocks, aimed his gun. Instinct kicked in and Hunter jumped into a high spin kick, knocking the pistol away. “Get the gun, Morgan!”
Morgan sprinted forward, picking the weapon up. With trembling hands, she turned, aimed at Robert as he lunged toward Hunter again. Her finger moved to the trigger just as Hunter used Robert’s momentum to throw him over his shoulder to the ground. In the blink of an eye, Hunter knelt down, struck Robert with an elbow to the chest, jammed the heel of his hand into his face. Robert lay motionless.
Morgan’s breath shuddered in and out. “Did you—did you kill him?”
Hunter glanced up. Morgan still held the pistol. “Put the gun down before you shoot me.”
She stared at the weapon as if she had no idea how it got in her hand, dropped it to her side. “You didn’t answer me. Is he dead?”
“No, but he’ll be out for awhile.” He stood, took the pistol she held limp.
“You’re-you’re bleeding.”
“Just a little.” He swiped at his cheek with his shoulder again.
Standing on tiptoes, Morgan took a closer look. Her cool, clammy fingers brushed the skin of Hunter’s face. “We’ll have to clean these cuts.” Her thumb traced his cheekbone, making two small circles. “You’ll have some bruising.”
Her gentle fingers soothed as he met her gaze. They didn’t have time for this. “We’ll take care of it later.”
Hunter dug through Morgan’s pack, cut a piece of the rope from the shower bag, tied Robert’s hands behind his back. “Let’s get out of here. Stay behind the rocks until I tell you.”
“Okay.”
Hunter peered over the boulders. The police officers lay where they’d landed, writhing and moaning in pain. He stood, breaking cover, aimed both guns in their direction. “Listen to me, you bastards. I didn’t shoot to kill, but I will if I so much as see you move. Let’s go, Morgan.”
She stood, shouldered her pack. Hunter walked backwards, shielding her body. He held both weapons trained on the officers, keeping aim until they vanished from his sight. He holstered his gun, secured the safety on Robert’s, shoved the muzzle in the back waist of his pants.
“Run, Morgan, hurry. We need to get to the station before Robert comes to.”
They ran as fast as they could. Hunter held Morgan’s hand, pulling her along, knowing they had very little time.
“Screw our stuff,” Hunter said. “Let’s get to the car.”
“What about the keys?”
“I’ll hotwire the damn thing. We have to get to the airport.”
They made it to the parking lot minutes later. The tires on the car had been slashed. “Fuck, let’s go to the station.” Hunter yanked Morgan back toward the trail. “We’ll take one of the pickups.”
But when they got to the cabin, it was clear they wouldn’t be taking one of the trucks either. The rims of the wheels rested stubbornly against the dirt of the small driveway.
“Okay, I guess we’ll hike.” Hunter looked at Morgan. “Gr
ab food. Get more first-aid supplies from the bathroom. You know what to do. I’ll call this in to the Bureau. Hurry.”
Miles walked from the woods as they took the first step to the door. Morgan gasped, stumbled back. “Oh, God, Miles, you scared me.”
“Geez, sorry, Morgan. I just got off duty. You guys are back early. We weren’t expecting you for a day or two yet.”
With a smile, Hunter walked over to Miles, extended his hand. Reaching out, Miles returned the gesture. Hunter grabbed hold, pivoted, elbowing Miles hard in the solar plexus. Groaning, the ranger fell forward. Hunter’s elbow connected with Miles’s chin next, sending him to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Morgan stepped back, staring at Hunter in disbelief. “Why did you do that? Why did you hurt him? He could’ve helped us.”
“Because I don’t know if he’s working with them. Get the stuff, Morgan. Hurry up.”
When she opened the door, Hunter dragged Miles inside, left him on the office floor.
Chewing her lip, Morgan hesitated next to Miles’s limp body. She looked up and Hunter held her gaze, watching the internal struggle play out in her big green eyes.
“Having second thoughts about whose side you’re on, Morgan? This would be a bad time to decide you don’t trust me anymore.” After everything they’d been through, the thought that she didn’t burned deep.
Her gaze never faltered. “Of course I trust you, Hunter. How could I not?”
He nodded. “We’re running out of time.”
They started down the hall, stopping short when the police scanner in the office belched out, “Two officers down by the northeast ranger’s station, Yellowstone. Be advised and on the lookout for—” Descriptions matching Morgan and Hunter blared through the speaker.
“Move, Morgan, move. We have to go.” Hunter hurried to the bedroom as Morgan ran to the bathroom.
Hunter stepped out of Robert and Miles’s room, stopping short of slamming into Morgan as she emerged from the bathroom, loaded down with supplies.
“I didn’t get the food. I need a couple more minutes.”
