Morgan's Hunter (31 page)

She gave him a watery laugh, nestled against him. He leaned forward, kissed her hair.

Morgan rarely showed her weaknesses. Seeing her so undone flooded him with a need to be everything he hadn’t been. He brushed his lips against her temple, spoke softly next to her ear. “I haven’t made things easy, but lean on me tonight, Morgan. Let me help you. Tell me the rest.”

Taking a shaky breath, she drew back until their eyes met. Her lips trembled as she nodded. “Okay.” Her fingers clutched his as she began. “Shelly and Tom were amazingly intelligent. Shelly had a photographic memory and Tom was a genius. They were very much the brains behind our team.”

“You aren’t exactly a chump yourself.”

A fleeting smile touched her lips. “Shelly and Tom were a whole ‘nother level of smart. Physically, however, they were the two weakest members of our group, and I knew that. They should’ve been placed on separate teams with either Ian and Jim or me and Dave.”

“Why? A good brain can get you out of a lot of bad situations.”

“Yes, but so can brawn. If the teams had been more evenly matched, they would all be alive. In my heart of hearts, I believe that.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. “From the beginning I knew it was wrong. I didn’t do a damn thing to fix it. Something felt…off from the get-go, and I ignored it. Why did I let Ian talk me out of changing the groups?”

She tugged her hand free, bunched it into an impotent fist. “Ian and Jim could’ve taken those guys, and I know Dave and I sure as hell would’ve tried.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “She was so afraid, Hunter. I’m sure they all were, and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand knowing that.”

Hunter pulled her into a hug. She held on as if her life depended on it. He recognized the burden she carried, the crushing weight of guilt that consumed and ate away at the soul until nothing remained but self-hate and regret. He didn’t want that for her.

“So you made them get on a plane and come to Yellowstone after they voiced their concerns, after they told you how uncomfortable they were with the arrangements?”

Morgan dashed at her tears as she shook her head. “Well, no, of course not, but—”

He brushed the next tear away with his thumb, held her face in his hands. “None of this was your fault. I want you to hear me. Not one single part of what happened to your friends is a result of your actions. Don’t take that on. Greed killed your team, not you.”

“But—”

“Stop, I’m not finished. All of you could’ve come out here together. Nothing would’ve prevented the outcome. The only difference would be six dead bodies instead of three.”

Morgan flinched and he muttered a curse.

“What I’m trying to say is the people in on this mine aren’t fucking around. If they know you’ve seen too much, consider yourself a dead man. There are no mercy rules out here.”

Morgan opened her mouth to speak as the water in the pot behind them boiled over. Starchy foam bubbled and hissed as it hit flames. She broke free of his grip, hurried over to their dinner. “Damn. I forgot about our shells and cheese. The pasta’s going to be mush.” She took the pot to the edge of the cave, poured the rest of the boiling water to the ground. She came back, added the cheese, stirred. Moments later, she handed Hunter a bowl heaped with overcooked shells.

“Thanks.” He sat across from her.

“They aren’t going to be as good as they should be.”

Hunter blew on a spoonful of creamy cheese and soggy pasta before he put the bite in his mouth. “Tastes fine to me.”

Morgan pushed the food around in her bowl. “Do you think they’ll find us if we stay here tonight?”

Apparently their conversation was finished. Hunter let it go for now. “No. We have a good enough lead. We should be fine. The rain helped us out again today. Any trail we left behind is virtually gone, and I haven’t heard the damn air traffic for a while.”

He paused for another bite. “Tomorrow’s going to be hell, though. The rocks will be slippery, the forest a mess, but we’re on schedule even with our early stop. We’ll probably be in Tower Junction mid-afternoon.”

“Good. I’m ready to be finished with this nightmare. I still haven’t tracked a lynx. We’ll have to call this trip a professional flop. When we get out of here, I think I’ll try Maine again. Yellowstone and I need a break.”

“So you’re trying to tell me this isn’t a typical assignment? Being chased and shot at, it’s not all in a day’s work?” Hunter smiled.

“Maybe for you, but I prefer something a little less adventuresome.” She scooped up a bite of pasta. “Are most of your assignments like this?”

Hunter snorted. “God, no. On my last assignment I spent two days avoiding my client’s oversexed teenage daughter. She kept pinching my ass. I haven’t been shot at since Afghanistan, and I can guarantee they weren’t shooting at us with a Glock.” As soon as he said it, his smile disappeared. He stared down at his dinner.

Where the hell had that come from? He’d never spoken of Afghanistan outside the psychiatrist’s office, and even then he’d only said what he’d had to to get through the twelve mandated sessions.

“Your scar,” Morgan said softly, “your on-the-job injury. You were shot while you were over there.”

He looked at her, didn’t answer. He wasn’t going there. He wasn’t bringing it all back, not even for her.

She hesitated, placed her hand over his. “It was—it was bad.”

It wasn’t a question; it didn’t have to be. His eyes remained locked on hers. He saw the compassion, the comfort she offered, but he couldn’t take it.

Because it was Morgan, because she was different, he gave her what he could. “Yeah, it was bad—as bad as it gets.” His stomach clenched, his pulse raced. He felt himself shutting down—a defense mechanism well-constructed to block out the images that could come out of nowhere and crush him.

He broke contact, stood. “I’m going to finish cleaning up.”

She nodded. “I’ll wash the dishes.”

Chapter 26

M
ORGAN WOKE IN THE DARK to the sound of Hunter’s erratic breathing. She reached above her head, groping for the lantern, turning it on low. Hunter’s face and chest were sheened with sweat in the dim light.

Morgan yanked her cover back, freeing herself from the sleeping bag. She placed her hand against his brow, fearful of fever, but he didn’t feel overly warm.

Hunter mumbled something and she relaxed. He wasn’t ill. He was dreaming. His body jerked as she watched the rapid hammer of his heart slam against his chest. She brushed her fingers through his hair, wanting to rouse him from whatever hell his subconscious dumped him into. “Hunter. Hunter, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

Hands fisted, he thrashed.

She rubbed his shoulder. “Come on, Hunter.” Her heartbeat thundered in time with his when she couldn’t bring him around. “Hunter—”

“Jake! No, Jake!” He bolted upright, looking around wildly while his breath heaved in and out. He fell back against the sleeping bag, putting his hands over his face.

“It’s okay.” She didn’t dare touch him.

“I’m all right,” he said through his hands.

Was he trying to convince her or himself? “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

“No. I just need a minute.”

“Okay.” Morgan put the water bottle by the lantern on his side, just in case he changed his mind. She got in her sleeping bag, turned over, trying to give him as much privacy as their situation allowed.

Hunter sat up, and she turned back, facing him. She needed to see for herself he was okay. He swung his legs from the bed, crawled forward, unzipped the tent. His gaze met hers. “Stop looking at me like that. I said I’m fine, all right?”

“Yeah, got it.”

He closed his eyes, sighed. “I just need some air.”

She lay her head back against the small bubble formed by the mattress pad.

He let loose another long breath. “Sometimes I have nightmares about Afghanistan.”

As much as she wanted to, Morgan asked him no questions.

He sat back on his sleeping bag. “They usually happen if I think about it too much.”

“I asked you about it earlier. Did that trigger the dreams?”

He rubbed his thumb and fingers over his forehead. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Horrified, she sat up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would upset you. I won’t ask again. I feel terrible.” Taking Hunter’s hand in hers, Morgan squeezed. “Why don’t you go get that fresh air and try to get some more sleep.”

He reversed his palm so their fingers laced, surprising her.

“It’s not your fault. They just sneak up from time to time.”

Morgan glanced down at their clasped fingers. Hunter’s large hand all but swallowed hers. She didn’t know what to do for the suddenly vulnerable man sitting next to her. “Are you sure I can’t get you something, maybe some tea?” she asked lamely.

“No thanks. I’m good.”

He stared at her, and she gnawed her bottom lip. What did he want? She couldn’t figure him out. Her first instinct was to hold and comfort, but he would only push her away.

Hunter moved closer, until their knees touched. Morgan’s heart trembled as he brushed his thumb over her cheek, pressed his lips against hers, gently, tenderly.

Need burned bright in his eyes as their gazes locked, and he moved in again. She put her hands on his forearms, pulling him to her, deepening the kiss.

“I want to forget, Morgan.”

Ready to give whatever he would take, she nodded, ran her lips along the bottom of his jaw, down his neck, tasting salt and Hunter.

He laid her down, bringing her mouth back to his without any sense of urgency. His callused hands brushed her arms, making her shiver.

She put her hands to his cheeks, staring into his eyes, steeped in quiet passion as his fingers traced light circles around her nipples, teasing her through the barrier of clothing. She whimpered, already burning for him. She wanted his skin touching hers, to melt against him. She wanted him to make her come alive.

As if he read her mind, Hunter lifted her, pulled her shirt away. He laid her back again with his hands wrapped around the front of her shoulders. He left opened-mouth kisses down her neck, along the sides of her breasts, and she sighed, reveling in the tenderness passing between them.

Tilting her head up, bowing her back, she offered him more to explore, wanting his mouth everywhere.

Her palms skimmed down his waist, up to lay flat against his firm chest, against his strong heartbeat.

Hunter journeyed down, leaving a lazy trail of kisses. He tugged at her long johns until only her panties remained. His lips and hands brushed her legs, stopping at the skimpy v of black silk. His fingers ran along the lacy edges, dipping under fabric, but never touching, never fulfilling.

Throbbing, gasping, she moaned. “Hunter, I need… I need to—”

He silenced her, kissing her again, and she grew hungry, aching for release. Desperate, Morgan dragged his hand to her center, pressing him against her, and groaned in frustration when he pulled back, caressing her breasts instead, only adding another layer to the flames.

Frenzied, she tugged his mouth to hers. Her tongue dove deep, tangling with his. Lost in his taste, in the feel of his lips, in the thrill of his hard body pressing hers against the mattress, she gasped, crying out, clutching at his shoulders as his fingers snuck under lace and played her over the first violent peak.

He stroked and plundered until her legs trembled, until she built again, erupting. Hunter swallowed moan after moan.

Wanting more, craving to be joined, needing to feel him inside, she pulled his shorts off with unsteady hands. He positioned himself over her and entered slowly. Twin groans filled the air.

Hunter tortured them both with each gentle thrust, until her breath came in shuddering gasps. The throbbing tug built deep in her belly, spreading, until it was too huge, too overwhelming. “Oh, God, Hunter.” Her head tipped back, her hands fisted against the sleeping bag.

“Stay with me, Morgan.”

Did she have a choice? She was with him. She was his. Throaty whimpers escaped her as she looked into his eyes. Unable to hold back any longer, the orgasm took her, stronger than before. Lost, undone, her hands skimmed down his back, pressing against his butt, urging him on until he pumped faster and faster.

His breath shuddered in and out, growing harsh, as she clamped tight around him. Bracing himself on one arm, he used his other to scoop her hips high. With one last deep thrust that left her gasping, he emptied into her.

Hunter collapsed against her. His hot breath feathering along her neck. He rolled to his back, bringing her with him. “I’m always afraid I’m crushing you. You’re so small.”

“I’m small, but I’m not a wimp.” She kissed him, smiled while his heart rate steadied. “I like when you’re on top of me.” She snagged his bottom lip with her teeth, tugging gently. “I like it better when you’re in me.”

His hand tightened against her lower back. “Keep talking like that and we’ll get to it in just a second.”

She traced his ear with her tongue, stroked him. “Promise?”

He groaned, flipped her back, plunging in again. “I never break a promise, Morgan.”

She grinned up at him. “Thank God.”

Later, they lay together in his sleeping bag. Morgan stroked her hand along Hunter’s arm. Her fingers paused on his tattoo, tracing the ornate cross. He glanced at her and she stopped abruptly.