Return of a Hero (20 page)

“Really?” Jim bit out. His eyes blazed with anger and he turned it on Laura. “You of all people, harboring a bastard like this. I never expected this of you, Laura.”

She opened her mouth to defend Morgan, but it was too late. Morgan moved like an attacking tiger, grabbing Jim by the lapels of his khaki uniform and slamming him up against the wall.

“Keep her out of this,” Morgan snarled in Jim’s face. “Just tell me what you’ve done with the information you’ve got on me.”

Gasping, Jim dropped the briefcase as Morgan’s powerful hands around the neck of his uniform shut off his air. “N-nothing…yet…”

With a curse Morgan released him, breathing hard. “You’d better sit down, Captain. There’s some information you
don’t
know that’s just come to light. In less than an hour, I’m giving a deposition, and so is Lenny Miles, to clear my name and my family’s honor.”

Blankly the captain looked at Laura, who stood at Morgan’s side. “Deposition? Lenny Miles? What are you talking about?”

Gripping the officer’s arms, Morgan pulled him away from the wall. “Get in the kitchen and sit down, Woodward. You’re going to hear the real facts concerning Hill 164. Now get moving. I don’t have long to convince you that I’m not a traitor.“

Laura sat quietly as Miles repeated the story to Jim. Morgan shoved the documents under his nose, and the marine officer inspected them closely. Within half an hour, Jim’s demeanor had gone from hostility to disbelief. A dull red color crept into his cheeks as Morgan finished the explanation.

“Looks like I owe you both an apology,” Jim said.

Laura sighed. “Don’t apologize, Jim. Just keep all this under your hat until Morgan’s attorney can contact the right people.”

Jim looked at Morgan. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Clearing my family’s name.”

“More than that. It means a full congressional investigation. They hung you seven years ago, and if they reopen this case, the press is going to have a field day.”

The doorbell rang. It had to be the limo driver to take them to Wendell’s office. Morgan got up. “Only this time, Young, Hadden and his cronies are going to be on the hot seat, not me. Miles, let’s go.”

Lenny nodded, grabbing one more cookie and stuffing it into the pocket of his slacks.

Laura continued to sit opposite Jim. She saw Morgan give her a wink, and she raised her hand in farewell. “Hurry home,” she told him, a catch in her voice.

Morgan felt his heart smother with yearning. Laura looked drained. It had been one hell of a day, and it wasn’t over yet. “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he promised.

Jim gave her an odd look once Morgan and Lenny had left. He pushed the photos of Morgan toward her. “Here, you’d better keep these for now. I retrieved them from the photo files.”

Grateful for his loyalty, Laura took them. “Thank you, Jim.”

“That guy means something special to you?”

She smiled. “Yes, he does.”

“You haven’t known him long.”

“That’s true, but I love him, anyway. I guess I did from the first.”

Jim gathered up the rest of the files and placed them in a neat stack in the center of the table. “Lucky bastard.” He grinned over at her. “I hope he appreciates you.”

“I think he does,” Laura admitted softly.

Rising, Jim asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes. Get that classified document Clay Cantrell located in Section B of the central files on Operation Eagle, Hadden and Armstrong. We’ll need it for Morgan’s defense.”

“No sooner said than done,” Jim promised. He picked up his hat and settled it on his head. “You know I’m doing this for you.”

Jim had always had a crush on her, Laura realized. “Do it for Morgan. He’s a fellow marine and deserves your help.”

Nodding, Jim snapped his briefcase shut and took it in his left hand. “You’re right. The man’s been framed and his entire life destroyed.”

Laura stood in the quiet living room after Jim had left. The house felt empty and cool without Morgan’s presence. What would tomorrow bring?

Chapter Eleven

L
aura went to bed at ten, after receiving a phone call from Morgan. The depositions were taking longer than expected because Bill Wendell wanted every memory, every item that might be important, put down for the record. And Lenny Miles was in worse shape with every passing hour. Exhausted, Laura had taken a bath and slipped into a delicate white cotton gown that brushed her feet.

Her head still spun with worries and anxieties. Would Lenny continue to cooperate? What if he froze and refused to go before a Senate investigative hearing? How would that affect Morgan’s case? Sighing, Laura turned on her side, closing her eyes. She missed Morgan more every hour. He’d promised to be home by midnight.

“Be quiet,” Morgan told Sasha as he entered the foyer of the house. It was a few minutes past midnight.

Sasha whined, thrusting her cold nose into his outstretched hand. Absently Morgan patted the Saint Bernard and tiptoed into the living room. All but one light was out. Laura was in bed, he was sure.

The house was dark and quiet as he walked back toward the bedrooms. His bedroom was all the way down the hall from hers. He glanced at her door and saw that it was ajar. Normally she kept it shut.

“Go to bed, Sasha,” he said, and the Saint disappeared into the kitchen to lie down on her blanket.

Morgan moved down the hallway toward Laura’s room. He nudged the door open, the light filtering in behind him. Laura lay beneath the pink comforter, asleep. Standing uncertainly, he soaked in her peaceful features hungrily. Her thin cotton gown had a boat neck, emphasizing the clean lines of her beautiful throat and delicate collarbones. His head was pounding with pain from the arduous hours of giving a deposition, but something pushed him farther into her room.

Laura stirred, her groggy senses alerting her to someone’s presence. Barely opening her eyes, she saw Morgan’s shadowy form backlighted.

“Morgan?” Her voice was raspy with sleep.

He came over and sat down on the edge of her bed, placing his hand over her blanketed hip. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” God, but she was beautiful when she was waking up. The comforter lay at her waist, revealing the contour of her small breasts beneath the gown.

Smiling sleepily, Laura turned onto her back, searching his shadowed features. “You look so tired. It must have been rough to talk about all those things again. Did everything go all right?”

Laura’s sensitivity never ceased to amaze Morgan. He reached out to caress her cheek. It was soft, yet firm. “It went fine. Miles managed to complete his deposition before he went into detox. The rehab people have him now. He’ll probably have a rough night of it,” he answered gruffly, watching the light and dark outline the swell of her breasts.

“It was just as hard on you, though in a different way.”

“I’ll have to go through it again in front of a Senate hearing if Wendell gets his way. Every time it gets a little easier.”

Her breasts tightened in anticipation as his gaze lingered on them. Laura felt an almost tangible hunger radiating from him, stirring all her feminine desires to bright life. His hand had come to rest on the side of her neck, stroking her flesh gently. Each touch sent feathery tremors of yearning through her. Sliding her hand up his arm, she managed a soft smile. “I’ll be at your side, just as your family will be. You won’t have to go through this alone.”

Morgan traced the graceful curve of her neck with his scarred fingers, watching her lashes flutter closed and her lips part provocatively. He felt her hand tighten on his arm. The screaming need to love her sheared through him. But it wasn’t time yet. He hadn’t been cleared, and there was no guarantee that he would be. With his thumb, Morgan caressed her collarbone, absorbing her reaction to his touch.

Fighting his desires, fighting what he knew both of them wanted, needed, he said in a low voice, “Tell me of your dreams, Laura.”

A little sigh escaped her lips. Slowly she opened her eyes, melting beneath his burning gray gaze. Morgan’s hand rested warmly against her shoulder. “Dreams?” she whispered.

A slight smile pulled at his mouth. Laura was shaken. All he would have to do was lie down beside her and take her into his arms. Every nerve in his body begged him to do just that, and quell the fire raging within him. “Yeah, dreams. Your dreams. What do you want out of life?”

It was nearly impossible to think coherently with Morgan continuing to stroke her neck and shoulder. There was such incredible gentleness in his eyes now, and in his voice. “When I was being shuttled from one foster home to another, I dreamed of having a family adopt me,” she began in a wispy voice. “And after Mom and Dad did adopt me, I dreamed of making them proud of me.”

“And so you graduated with honors from Georgetown University,” Morgan said, his voice thick, unsteady.

She ran her fingers up the length of his corded forearm, feeling the muscles tense beneath her caress. “Yes. And then, one by one, they died. Since then, my dreams have changed.”

“How?” Morgan lifted his hand, smoothing away the wrinkles on her brow, then began to thread his fingers through her blond hair, which glinted with highlights as he moved the strands.

Her scalp tingled with pleasure as he sifted the hair through his fingers. Laura swallowed convulsively and inhaled sharply, unable to speak.

Laura’s answer was far more important than his own selfish desires, and Morgan stopped coaxing his fingers through her hair. Her blue eyes were huge and luminous, telling him of her need of him. “What kind of dreams do you weave in your sleep now?” Morgan coaxed her huskily.

Breathless beneath his tender onslaught, Laura struggled to contain her yearning. It would be so easy to sit up and slide her arms around his shoulders, drawing him down into bed with her. But their coming together had to be a mutual decision, and she gently acquiesced to that realization.

“Children mean so much to me,” she began softly. “My dreams aren’t very exciting, Morgan. I hoped to one day find a man I could love. Who would want children as much as I do.”

“You’d make a hell of a mother,” Morgan told her, still caressing her hair. Forcing himself to stop touching her, he placed his hand at his side. Disappointment was mirrored in her eyes, and he felt like a first-class heel.

Laura lay in the ebbing silence, absorbing Morgan’s introspection. “What are your dreams?”

“I won’t have any until this hearing is over.” Morgan saw the despair come to her eyes. He wanted to tell Laura that he saw her as his wife and the mother of his children. But it was far too soon to say any of those things. They’d barely known each other a month. Everything was moving too swiftly. And yet, as he studied her in the dim light, the soft curves of her face highlighted, Morgan knew that a month was time enough. “When it’s over,” he whispered, “I want to share my dreams with you.”

“That time won’t come soon enough,” Laura murmured.

Rising slowly to his feet, Morgan gripped her hand. “I know…Get some sleep, little swan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Morning. Laura watched Morgan slowly retreat from her bedroom. As the door was quietly shut, darkness once again descended around her. The love she felt for Morgan was close to exploding. It was so hard not to tell him how she felt. But he’d had so much taken from him already, she knew that he didn’t want to risk anything in the future, for fear the present would once again undermine him. Tears stung Laura’s eyes, and she blinked them away. The future…their future, hung in precarious balance. Burying her face in the goose down pillow, she wondered how Senator Tyler would react to the evidence Bill Wendell would present to him.

“Senator Tyler wants to see all of us,” Wendell told Morgan over the phone late the next afternoon. “I sent the depositions over to his staff this morning, and I just got a call from him.”

Grimly Morgan asked, “What’s his mood? Does he believe me?”

“The senator, at this point, is incredulous. He wants you, Miles and Laura at his office in an hour. Can you make it?”

Checking his watch, Morgan muttered, “Yes, we’ll be there.”

“Excellent. I’ll have one of the rehab staffers bring Miles over. I guess he’s in pretty rough shape this morning. I’ll meet you there, Morgan. Goodbye.”

Placing the receiver back on its cradle, Morgan glanced up at Laura. She looked like a young girl in her pale-pink cotton dress with lace at the collar. Its pearl buttons gave the dress a decidedly old-fashioned air. She was his Laura, the idealistic dreamer, and she was beautiful in his eyes.

“The senator wants to see us,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “He does?”

“All three of us. He’s read the depositions, and I think he wants to see if we’re real or a figment of Wendell’s imagination.”

Laura’s heart started beating hard. Grabbing her lavender raincoat to face the typically showery April day, she tried to smile. “I’m ready.”

Laura waited impatiently in the foyer for Morgan to get his dark-brown corduroy sport coat. He reappeared and shrugged it over his shoulders, offering her a tense smile.
Please,
she prayed,
let the senator believe Morgan.

Bill Wendell met them outside the senator’s office, briefcase in hand. He smiled at them. “Come on, don’t look so glum,” he chided. “This isn’t an inquisition.”

Morgan kept his hand cupped over Laura’s elbow. “I wish I shared your optimism, Bill.”

Wendell slapped him on the back. “Relax. All the senator wants to do is ask you some questions. Miles is already here—a little worse for wear, but he’s coherent.” He opened the door and stepped in after Laura and Morgan.

Morgan took in the walnut-paneled outer office. Mementos from Senator Tyler’s long and illustrious career filled the walls. His secretary, Alice, was dressed in a gray business suit and gave them a welcoming smile. Miles sat quietly on a chair.

“Hello, Bill,” Alice said. “Go right on in. The senator’s waiting.” She stared at Morgan.

Laura felt him tense beneath the secretary’s piercing gaze. Was it curiosity or a look damning Morgan as a traitor? She wasn’t sure. Following the men, she entered the sumptuous inner office last.