Dangerous Secrets (57 page)

‶
Hurry,″ he said, his
voice dark and strained.

Morgan slipped the protection over him. For a
moment she smoothed her hands over his hair-roughened legs. She felt the
muscles contract where she touched. Jack′s face told her he was in agony,
but the agony was from the pleasure she gave him. She knew how much her touch
pleased him and she continued.

She kissed his shoulders, working her hands
around his body, and her mouth across his torso, feeling the subtle changes in
him as rapture enclosed them in a cocoon of fiery need. Hooking her fingers
about his neck, she pulled him down as she lay back, giving him access to her
body.

‶
I love you,″ she
whispered as Jack entered her. Morgan couldn′t hold back the throaty moan
of pleasure that accompanied his penetration. She felt as if it were their
first time, although she was familiar with him. The sensations running through
her were different. She felt her blood and Adrenaline coupled with TNT to cause
an imminent explosion.

Losing all sense of time and place, she felt
Jack move inside her. They were alone. The world didn′t exist outside
their surroundings. She loved Jack and wanted him to know it. She gave herself,
all of herself, all she had to give flowed through her and into him.

Jack cupped her hips and she raised them,
giving him greater access. She felt him totally inside her as huge waves of
love caught her in their glory and lifted her to a sea of sensation that prior
to this she had not known, would not have believed possible.

With Jack, she knew everything was possible.

Anything was possible.

***

H
art
Lewiston tries to regain some of the ground he′s lost in a recent trip to
Atlanta, Georgia.
The television announcer droned on with the lead story.
Carla Lewiston curled up in her hotel bed and pulled the covers up to her neck.
She watched her image on the screen standing next to Hart, smiling for the
cameras and looking out over the crowd as Hart spoke into the microphone.

He looked tired, aged, she thought. In a matter
of weeks he′d gone from a strong, robust man to someone she hardly
recognized. They′d been married for twenty-three years, had traveled
together, done everything with the same goal in mind, yet on the screen,
emerging through the electronic wizardry of some long-dead inventor, was a man
she hardly knew. When had that changed? Where had she been when Hart had become
intent on family?

They′d never wanted children. They
hadn′t discussed children when they got married. It was to be just the
two of them. They didn′t need children to complement their lives. They
had their careers. Their lives were full, busy, satisfying, but she never
thought she was too busy for Hart, or he for her. Yet they were different. She
knew no one could ever completely know another human being, but she thought she
and Hart came as close as any two people ever would to accomplishing that.

But he′d proved her wrong.

The news story on Hart ended, replaced by
Hart′s
daughter.
Carla felt her
anger rise. She frowned at the child, the nineteen-year-old Olympic winner.
Didn′t they have any current footage, she wondered? This twelve-year-old
film of her at the Seoul Olympics was getting tired. She wasn′t a
nineteen-year-old any longer. She wasn′t America′s sweetheart vying
for her place in the light. Her place had come and gone, but Hart saw fit to
thrust her back onto center stage.

Carla sat forward, staring at the screen and
the girl on it. Was she the trump card? This child was America. She represented
us to the world. The international posters Carla had seen so often as the
Director of the Children′s Relief Program flashed into her mind. Germany was
represented by a blonde woman with pig tails and a printed dress over which she
wore a white apron. The Japanese wore kimonos. Carla knew the world thought of
the United States as represented by a cowboy, complete with chaps and boots,
wrangling a steer to the ground or of some jeans-clad young man with a two-day
beard. But that image had been replaced in the international mind by this
child, Morgan Kirkwood, astride her chosen steer, a gymnastics beam.

She stood poised on it, her uniform, not jeans,
but a white leotard with the stars and stripes on her right arm. The front of
the torso held huge slashes of red and blue. She was perfect, young, golden,
her hair in a ponytail that bobbed with each movement. Her arms extended as if
in a dancer′s pose and her eyes, the eyes of innocence, the face of
vulnerability, epitomized all that was good and right in America. A poster
child for patriotism, Carla thought. Was that it? Was that why Hart had seen
fit to suddenly pull her into the picture?

Carla shook her head and fell back against the
plushness of the pillows in the suite′s king-sized bed. He didn′t
need this girl. His ratings in the polls were miles ahead of his competition.
All he needed to do was wait out the time. But he′d chosen to do
something stupid and now he was trying to backpedal.

And Carla had to stand beside him, her smile
carefully in place, and help.

***

Jack bolted upright. Stiff muscles protested
his sleeping in the cramped space. Forgetting his discomfort, he checked over
his shoulder, searching. He was covered with one of the sleeping bags. Morgan
would have put it there. When he fell asleep, he was covered only by her
radiance and the afterglow of a love that blanketed them under a bubble of
warmth.

Yet where was she?
‶
Morgan,″ he
called, already knowing she wouldn′t answer. Listening for a moment, his
suspicions were confirmed.
‶
Damn!″ Jack cursed. She was gone. His
heartbeat escalated. She wouldn′t be far. She couldn′t have risked
her life to save his only to leave him during the night. And especially after
the night they had just shared. But she knew better than to go off alone. Or
she should, he corrected. They were too close to the mine and its inhabitants,
ready to kill them, for her to go off on her own.

Discarding the sooty clothes from yesterday, he
grabbed a clean shirt and jeans and shrugged into them. As soon as he pushed
his feet into running shoes, he weighed the most obvious direction she might
have headed. Then he remembered the small body of water where she′d
cleaned his face. It wasn′t far, only a few steps. He went toward it with
the speed of an agile cat.

Jack stopped short when he saw her. It was
barely dawn. The air was still cool. Dew wafted off the water like a celestial
mist. She swam in the dark pool, gliding through the liquid like a water nymph.
Her hair, loose and darkened by the wetness, floated on the surface of her
shoulders. Jack remembered it falling over his hands last night, thick and
soft, dark as velvet. His body tightened, reacting to hers with all the
remembered love of a few hours ago and a lifetime of forevers.

She swam away from him, her head above water,
her arms coming together in front of her, and pushing the water away, slicing a
path which she pulled into, only to repeat the action. He heard her humming one
of the country music tunes she liked, her cares momentarily forgotten. Her body
was nude, hidden by the concealing water, teasing him as parts of her surfaced
while others went under. He saw her naked legs, her breasts, the soft curve of
her hips peeking in and out of the mist. Jack stood rooted to the spot, unable
to move or call to her, unable to do anything but watch her dance for his eyes
only.

He′d never seen anyone swim like her. He
swam with purpose, laps up and back, methodically, rhythmically, his only goal
to get from one side of the pool to the other and repeat the action. Morgan
swam without purpose, with a grace and elegance that made her one with the
medium in which she′d immersed herself. Jack was caught up in her motion,
watching with awe as something invisible but tangible took hold of his heart
and squeezed it. He could only stare. He couldn′t move, couldn′t
call to her. He only wanted to stand in this virgin land and watch her gentle
ballet as misty ghosts banked off the surface. Ethereal and cloudlike, Jack
felt as if they were alone in the world. This was their private Garden of Eden
and Morgan was his Eve. The setting was perfect, the surface clouds ushering in
the morning and Morgan warm and naked in his arms.

He was about to go to her and make his thoughts
reality when she called to him,
‶
Hey.″ She turned, facing
him, treading water in her steamy setting.
‶
You should come in. It′s
a little cold at first, but you get used to it.″

Jack was lost. She disarmed him. She′d
always done it, but he′d been able to control it in the past. When she was
only a figment of his dreams, he could keep it at bay. With her this close, he
couldn′t. He wanted to get into the water. He wanted to scoop her into
his arms and let the formless liquid buoy them. He wanted to join her in the
erotic ballet, slide into her with the sloshing comfort of the liquid about
them and make love until neither of them had a brain between them.

Jack looked away. Suddenly he was
uncomfortable. It had nothing to do with Morgan, more with himself. He knew
better than to get involved. He also knew he had no choice.

‶
It′s time to get
dressed,″ he said, trying to cover his discomfort, replacing an idyllic
life together with images that talked of a future the two of them would never
have.
‶
We′ve
got to get out of here.″

Jack turned and headed back to the SUV. He
couldn′t watch as she came out of the water, ascending the sea like some
golden-brown mermaid sacrificing her fins for legs to walk the earth and love a
man. Jack couldn′t be that man. As much as he wanted it, craved it so
badly he thought his heart would burst, as much as he wanted to give up
everything for her, it was not to be. He didn′t need Jacob Winston to
read him the riot act. He didn′t need Forrest Washington to explain the
rules of engagement. Neither of them could tell him anything he hadn′t
already said to himself, but neither of them had held Morgan in their arms and
they hadn′t listened to her soft, breathy sound as she made love.

‶
What is it with you?″
Morgan asked, coming up behind him as he stood in the van′s open door.

Grabbing his arm, she spun him around to face
her. Hands on hips, she looked like a predatory lion ready to do battle. He
said nothing. She appeared to grow angrier.

God, he thought, why did she have to be so
beautiful? Her wet hair was slicked back off her face. It fell in spiked tendrils
on her shoulders. Droplets of water soaked the ends, absorbing into her shirt
with the sureness of a napkin. She wore no makeup. Her skin was tight and
healthy, her nose and cheeks shiny. Ribbons of darkness skated across her
midriff, proving she′d pulled the T-shirt over her head while her body
was still wet. Jack gripped the door to keep from grabbing her and pulling her
into his arms, smelling the freshness of the water on her skin and the
cleanliness of her hair.

‶
You know what your problem is,
Jack?″ Morgan said, although she gave him no time to answer.
‶
You
stand back when love tries to touch you. You′re a strong man and you
think love will make you weak, vulnerable. It won′t. It′ll make you
human. You′ve been out here saving the world for a long time. A lone
ranger, needing no one, wanting no one. Is that the way you want
it?′′ She paused, taking a breath. ″To live your life having
sex but not making love, touching but not feeling, meeting people but never
taking the time to know them? If so, then we′re much too different and
life for us will never be a success.″

‶
It′s a moot point,
Morgan. When we get to Washington,
if
they
don′t kill us first, you′re out of my life.″

She stepped back as if he′d hit her.

‶
Wherever I stand on love, back,
forward or in between, is useless to discuss. So let′s keep our minds on
the problem at hand.″

She stared at him for a long moment. Jack
watched her facial muscles twitch as she tried to keep them in place. She
wanted to cry. She was going to cry.

‶
Is that what we were doing last
night, Jack? Keeping our minds on the problem at hand?″

Not waiting for an answer, she stalked away. He
moved around the SUV to where she could not see him before letting out the
breath he′d been holding.

Standing
back when love tried to touch him.
It was part of his I.D. as surely as his
name was. She′d taught it to him, although she didn′t know it. It
was a hard lesson, one he thought he′d learned well. He vowed never to
get involved again, never let a woman get into his blood. When he let his
feelings become involved, he′d immediately walk away. He′d been
good at it too. It had become his nature, but not now.

She had touched him, reached into his soul and
held him in place, refusing to allow him to walk away. She′d worked her way
into his heart and anchored herself there. His father had once told him
he′d know he was in love when a woman was in his blood. Morgan had taken
up that station and there was nothing he could do about it. He was in love with
her, but he had to let her think he could walk away without a backward glance.
She would surely be wrenched away from him as soon as they set foot in the FBI.
He couldn′t afford to let her know how he would suffer when she was gone.
Let her hate him. It was better for them both.

He could never hate her.

Chapter 16

The silence inside the van was palpable. Morgan
didn′t understand what had happened. One minute they were making love and
the next Jack was telling her to get lost.

She sat stiffly next to her door as far away
from him as the tiny space allowed. Desperately her mind sought a solution to
their dilemma. Jack was in love with her. She was sure of it, she told herself.
He′d never said it. Between them stood her predicament. They could have
no life together. If she didn′t accept the government′s protection
she surely would be caught one day. If she wanted to live, she had to look at
it rationally, the way Jack had. This had to end. They couldn′t run
forever. Either they would be caught and killed or they′d make it to
Clarksburg and she′d enter witness protection. Jack would resume his life
in the CIA or retreat to his Montana paradise. In either case, it would be
without her.

Tears misted in her eyes, but she swallowed
them down. There was no time for emotion now. She should be checking for
vehicles following them or helicopters poised to shoot from the sky, but she
was too caught up in—

It hit her then. Helicopters. There were two of
them. Not two helicopters, but two different people shooting.

When the helicopter had taken off with Jack in
it and she jumped to the ground, shots had helped her escape, shots that came
from the ground. She wondered if Jack remembered.

Morgan almost turned in her seat. She had
become used to talking to him, planning with him. She felt gagged by her own
anger.

Jack hadn′t said a word since he climbed
into the driver′s seat. His swollen face made his profile grotesque. His
features were tight, his hands powerful, gripping the steering wheel as the SUV
mowed down bushes and small trees, over abandoned hiking trails, making its own
road through the dense greenery.

Morgan glanced behind her, through the window
at the back of the van. The sleeping bag she′d pulled over them in the
early morning lay like a crumpled reminder of what she would lose only a few miles
down
this
imaginary road. She′d
never think of an SUV again without being reminded of Jack lying there, holding
her, making love to her.

She woke before Jack had. Darkness shrouded the
night. The crickets and cicadas had ended their song. All about her was quiet.
Nothing moved to break the stillness, except for Jack′s easy breathing.
It was that very quiet that had awakened her.

The pond drew her like a siren′s song
drew a sailor. She went there and entered the water, swimming until she saw him
watching her. His face was hard, set in the stony semi-darkness, as if
he′d made some irrevocable decision.

And indeed he had.

‶
Jack.″ Morgan
couldn′t be quiet a moment longer. He glanced at her, his face still set.
‶
I′m
not going to bring up the lake.″

She saw his jaw muscles tighten and it gave her
a secret pleasure to know he was upset by his own decision.

‶
Last night—″ She stopped.
That wasn′t what she meant to say.
‶
Yesterday, in the
helicopter.″ Her words were staggered, even though she tried to control
them.
‶
I
only got away because of—″

‶
The other shots,″ he
finished her sentence.

‶
You heard them?″ she
asked in surprise. Why was she surprised? Jack saw everything. He′d been
trained to observe. Even the tiniest details didn′t get past him. She
wondered about his life. She wanted to know every aspect of his life, his
future. They were only fifty miles, maybe less, from their destination. Time
had eluded her. She′d spent twelve years trying not to think of him and
only a couple of weeks thinking of nothing else.

‶
Any idea who they are?″

‶
I thought they were together
until they started shooting. Why do you think. . .″ She didn′t know
how to finish.

‶
There are two of them.″

Morgan shuddered. She didn′t really want
her thoughts confirmed.

‶
Why?″

‶
I haven′t a clue. You′ve
made some powerful enemies.″

‶
Do you think both of the
candidates have people looking for those papers?″

‶
It′s possible. The
information is valuable to both sides. The men in the cabin knew about the ring
and the papers. They wanted them. I assumed they were working for one of the
groups in Korea campaigning for president, but I don′t know which side.
They would answer none of my questions.″

Morgan slumped back against the upholstery.
Then she heard it. The beat of the air. The unmistakable sound of helicopter
rotors.

‶
They′ve found us,″
she shouted, her body instantly arrested with fear. She leaned forward, staring
into the sky, trying to find out which direction they were coming from. She
also wondered who they were. She′d feared only one side of the Koreans,
but why not both? The papers could help and hurt either side.

Morgan racked her mind trying to think of
something to do. Back in St. Charles she′d been in control. She knew
everything about the area, the places to hide, dead-ends, roadblocks. It was
her turf. Here she was lost They had no road, only what they carved out of the
forest. Jack banked hard on the steering wheel, taking the vehicle into a
ravine, and abruptly braked. She was slung forward and thrown back into her
seat. She closed her eyes for a moment listening for the distant sound. The
trees hung over each other here and the Lexus was hidden from the sky.

Morgan held her breath until she confirmed the
sound was receding. The helicopter was going in the opposite direction from the
one they were traveling. She glanced at the odometer. Since they left the
highway more than twenty-four hours ago, they′d only traveled thirty
miles. Sixty miles of prime forest sat between them and their goal.

‶
Jack, we have to return to the
main road.″ She spoke logically. Emotions, which rioted through her, were
absent from her voice.
‶
At this rate it will take us days to get to
Clarksburg, even if you′re sure of the direction.″

‶
I′ve come to that
conclusion myself. If we were here alone and safe, it would be the best route,
but with two different factions trying to find us, we need to find the fastest
method.″

‶
Why don′t we just call
your friend at the CIA and ask them to pick us up?′′

‶
I thought of that, but. .
.″ he trailed off.

‶
But what?″

Jack didn′t answer. He stared straight
ahead looking at nothing.

‶
There′s something not
quite right. I can′t put my finger on it. My gut tells me we′ve got
to do this alone.″

His instincts must have paid off in the past.
He didn′t say it, but she heard it nevertheless.

‶
Do you know who is chasing us?
I mean both groups?″

‶
Only one. I don′t know
who′s behind the second one.″

Morgan thought again about her enemies. She
could think of no one, at least no one that had a face. She had taken the
papers from Korea along with Hart—her father. She got him out of the jail, but
had only been seen by the one guard. Yet he had aided her. Had he told the
others who she was? It had been years. Look at where Hart was today, very
likely the next U.S. president. Look at the politics of Korea. That guard could
have bought himself a higher station with that piece of information. Knowledge
of her identity could be the reason the Koreans had her in their sights now.

But that only accounted for one group of
assassins. Had the guard played both sides of the field and sold his
information to two political parties? She didn′t know, but it was the
only thing that made sense.

Jack′s movement caught her attention. He
leaned forward and looked up. Nothing could be seen through the trees. Only the
slight craning of his head told her he was listening. She strained. No sound.
The helicopter was gone.

But not for long.

They would circle and circle, expanding their
circumference until they spotted the SUV and the two inhabitants.

Jack started the engine. He pulled out of the
trees and through the narrow ravine. Now they were out in the open. Only a few
trees helped to keep them shaded. Jack drove with breakneck speed. Morgan
gripped the seat arms and often ducked oncoming trees. He was tense and she
could see him check the skies and listen for sound as he propelled the Lexus
ever closer to the road they had left a day and a night ago.

When they saw it, a strip of black shining in
the sun, they were above it. Jack didn′t start downward, but continued
parallel, forever checking the sky, until the road and the mountains met. He
slipped back through a rail-less outcrop and onto the blacktop. Cars, vans and
trucks flirted with his SUV whizzing passed it on their way to distant
destinations.

clarksburg - 40, the sign said. Forty miles.
‶
We′re
almost there,″ Morgan breathed.

Jack nodded.

Morgan checked the rear windows. There were
several cars behind them. Not one looked menacing, but she knew better than to
believe the innocence of appearance. Jack too checked the mirrors frequently.
Five miles later Morgan relaxed a little.

Big mistake.

***

‶
Tighten your seat belt,″
Jack said needlessly. Since their first encounter with the road and all its
surprises Morgan had worn her seatbelt just short of tight enough to slow her
circulation.

‶
What′s wrong?″

‶
They′re back,″ he
said, not differentiating between who
‶
they″ were. Were
‶
they″
the supporters of the Korean president? Were
‶
they″ the opposition to
his election? Could
‶
they″ be someone altogether different?

Morgan′s head whipped back and forth
looking for something, anything. She didn′t know what she expected to
see.

‶
I don′t see
anything.″

‶
Right,″ Jack agreed.
‶
There
is no longer any traffic on either side of the roadway.″

Morgan checked the south side of the road. In
both directions she saw nothing but the vast, beautiful landscape that should
win some kind of highway award. On the north side, again the only vehicle
cleaving the wind was the Lexus SUV in which she and Jack traveled.

‶
Where do you think they are?
Should we get off the road?′′

‶
We′re going in.″

Jack′s voice made her look at him. It was
cold, hard, determined. His face, even the swollen side, took on the chiseled
effect of granite. Whatever was about to happen it was going to happen here.

‶
I want you to get down on the
floor in the back.″

‶
No!″

‶
Don′t argue with
me,″ he shouted.
‶
This time they′ll stop at nothing. Now get
down.″

Morgan moved then. She skirted around behind
his chair. He couldn′t see her, but she had picked the best place. She
was wedged between his seat and a huge metal crate. There was a strap on the
wall that Jack had installed. She didn′t ask about it, but he felt her
using it to strap herself to the reinforced wall.

The van was suddenly jolted as a barrage of
bullets churned up the dirt and pavement. Along with it came the sound of
helicopter blades churning the air. Jack was glad Morgan was behind him. He
didn′t need the distraction of trying to make sure she was all right
while he dodged bullets.

It was the Apache. Jack was tired of that
aircraft tracking them. More than tired, he thought. It loomed in the sky in
the path of the SUV, a green bug ready to sting. And this time it had
reinforcements. Bullets burst from the onboard guns. Jack ducked, but kept on
the straight and narrow. He expected a pellet to hit the windshield, burst the
glass and invade the cabin. He wore a bulletproof vest so he was protected from
ordinary bullets and if the shooter aimed for his chest. Morgan hadn′t
protested when he′d insisted she wear one, too.

Behind him the trucks were back. Two of them
rode within the painted lanes and one used the shoulder. Jack knew this group
was with the helicopter. It still bothered him that the others had shot at
them. It had given Morgan the cover she needed to get away, but they
weren′t with these guys. Having two sets of killers out there was
disorienting. He needed to deal with these now.

Not without surprises, Jack had given Burton
and Tilden instructions on what he wanted in the SUV and they had delivered. He
wouldn′t mind having them around to back him up.

The helicopter hung lower. It was coming in for
another bullet run. Jack saw the gunwales begin to turn. He wouldn′t wait
for another burst. He′d let them feel his sting. Flipping open the
specially installed panel on the console that separated the two front seats,
Jack hit the red button. On both sides of the van panels opened. Each held a
rocket. The navigational system activated, targeting the flying aircraft. Jack
hit the green button once and one of the missiles fired. He felt the drag on the
van as it took off. It pulled the van to the left, spinning it across the road,
out of control. Jack gripped the steering wheel so tightly he thought
he′d pull the heavy plastic circle off the column. He tried to fight the
ricocheting effect that threw the van back and forth across the double lanes as
if some magnet attracted the metal body on one side of the road then the other
in a zigzagging, crisscrossing pattern.

Before he regained control, he saw his missile
clip its target.
‶
Damn,″ Jack cursed. It hadn′t been a
direct hit, but it set the helicopter into a gyro spin. The bird spun around as
much out of control as the van. The pilot worked feverishly to keep the bird in
the air. It lost altitude. The Lexus careened toward it, three thousand pounds
of forged metal at seventy miles an hour. Collision was imminent. Behind them
the three trucks brought up the rear, pinning them in like cellar rats.