Dead Aim (18 page)

His hands slowly closed on her shoulders. "Oh, yes. I'll help you. Any way, every way. Just tell me. . . ."

"Did I hurt you?"

She chuckled. "Which time? Isn't it a little late to worry about damaging me?"

"No. Did I hurt you?"

She pretended to solemnly consider the question. "I think I felt a twinge in my shoulder the third time, but it went away quickly. Or maybe I was just distracted." Her teeth sank playfully into his shoulder. "Gee, did I hurt you?"

"No, you aroused me. Want to go again?"

"Soon." She nestled closer. "Lord, you have stamina. I need a little break."

"Okay." He sat up in bed. "I'll go get my sketch pad."

"Don't you dare." She jerked him back down. "I'm not about to pose nude."

"Just your face," he whispered. He kissed her. "I want to remember your face like this. You . . . glow."

She swallowed to ease the sudden tightness of her throat. "Yeah, sure, and someday when I least expect it, I'll find myself in a gallery window."

"No. If I did a nude of you it would be just for me. I'm feeling very possessive." He kissed the hollow of her throat. "Just your face . . ."

"Maybe later." She pulled his head down to her breasts. "Suddenly, I'm not feeling tired anymore. . . ."

Chapter 8.

Fairfax, Texas

If he was supposed to look for something unusual at this factory, then the trip was a washout.

Scott moved quietly down the hall, pausing for a moment to glance into the labs as he passed. No chemicals. Lots of electronic gadgetry. Charts . . .

He went into one of the labs and checked a chart. Nothing definitive. No names or places, just numbers, graphs, and percentages. No wonder they had been left behind when the plant had been closed down. They told absolutely nothing. Galen was going to be disappointed.

He dialed Galen's number. "No luck. No chemicals. A lot of electronic gadgets, a few graphs that tell
nada
."

"Have you covered the entire factory?"

"First and second floors." He opened the door and started down the stairs. "I'm going down to the basement now."

"What about the night watchman?"

"No sign of him. I'm keeping a lookout, but so far I can't see why they'd need one." He reached the landing and started down the second flight. "Long flights of stairs. Deep basement . . ."

"Were there any notes or papers in the desks?"

"Clean as a whistle. The drawers looked like they'd been cleaned by a Shop-Vac." He'd reached the door and tried it. "Hold on. The basement door's locked. I've got to open it."

He got out his skeleton keys and patiently tried a dozen before one opened the door. "Got it." He swung the door open. "Now, let's see--dammit." He jumped back into the stairwell. "I almost fell in."

"Fell in where?"

"I don't know. I just felt myself going." He shone the flashlight into the darkness of the basement. "Holy shit."

"Talk."

"It's weird. There's no floor. The basement is huge. It probably runs under the plant and the grounds around it. It's just dirt and holes, deep holes that seem to go clear to China." He shone the light around the walls. "That's all there is here. Just dirt and those holes. I'd say this qualifies as unusual. I'll take a couple pictures and you can see for your--"

Hot pain exploded inside him. "Christ!"

He should have watched his back. Only amateurs . . . He should have . . .

Alex rubbed her cheek back and forth in the hollow of his shoulder. "Who's Runne?"

Morgan went tense. "What?"

"He must be someone pretty important to you to make you talk in your sleep."

His muscles relaxed. "Is that where you heard the name?"

"Where else?"

"Runne sometimes seems to be omnipresent." He kissed the top of her head. "He's just someone I used to know."

"Which means you're not going to tell me."

"Maybe someday. It's an ugly story and I'm not about to spoil a good thing when I've got it." His hand covered her breast. "And it's a very good thing."

Yes, it was. She had never had it this strong or hot or sweet. Full of stormy power and tension . . . and tenderness. She had never imagined Morgan as tender, but she had learned gossamer gentleness always followed the storm. "I . . . liked it."

He chuckled. "You loved it. You just want to keep me in my place."

"And what is your place? Every time I turn around you keep moving and expanding the territory."

"But it's such intriguing territory." He brushed his lips over her nipple. "And you certainly didn't object to my moving a little while--" His phone rang on the bedside table. "Shit. Galen better not just be telling us he has nothing to tell us." He flipped on the phone. "What is it, Galen?"

"I think Scott's dead."

He froze. "How do you know?"

"I don't know. I was talking to him on the phone. I heard a shot."

"Get rid of your phone. They may be able to trace you."

"I doubt it. But I ditched it anyway. I'm talking on another unit. Scott said there was all kinds of electronic gadgetry at the factory, but all the paperwork was cleaned out. The machines probably wouldn't tell us anything if they left them here. But he went down to the basement and found something interesting. The dirt basement wasn't only under the building but extended under the entire grounds. And it was full of big holes. Scott said it looked like they were digging to China."

"What else?"

"Nothing else. If he saw anything more, he didn't get a chance to tell me. Bastards."

"Sorry about Scott. Was he a friend?"

"No, but I sent him there. So he was one of mine. This is getting very personal."

"Holes . . ."

"Very deep. Any ideas?"

"Not about the basement. But we need to find someone who can talk to us. Any news on Powers's credit card?"

"No, I'll call you when I have something. I'm catching the next plane to Brownsville. I have to make sure I'm right about Scott." He hung up.

"What is it?" Alex asked.

"Scott's probably dead. Shot." He got out of bed. "I'm going to shower and make some coffee. I don't think either of us is going to sleep any more tonight."

"Talk to me. What did he find?"

"Holes. Deep, deep holes."

"It's crazy." Alex took a sip of her coffee. "What were they doing down there in the basement?"

"Some kind of experiment, judging by all the lab facilities." He leaned back in his chair. "One that required electricity, not chemicals."

"That's pretty scanty."

"It's going to take some research even into the possibilities. How good are you at digging and compiling?"

"Pretty good. I'm a journalist. What are you getting at?"

"Something brought down the dam and started the landslides. Not explosives. Unless the story they put out was a big lie. I don't think so. They had too many scientists out there looking for the cause."

"Then what am I searching for?"

"Something different in technology . . . maybe new . . . could be old but discounted. An acorn that might grow a tree. I don't know."

"Neither do I." Her lips tightened. "But if it's there, I'll find it."

"What do you need?"

"A computer with a password that will get me into Lexis-Nexis programs. Time and luck."

"The computer and programs are no problem. We'll have to make the time and luck ourselves."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"As soon as I hear from Galen, I'm going after Powers. If we have Powers, we won't need anything else. He'll tell us everything we need to know."

"Maybe."

"No," he said quietly. "He'll tell us. I promise you."

Her cup stopped midway to her lips as a chill went through her. Forty minutes ago she had been in bed with Morgan, warm, aroused, content. Now it was a different, intimidating man who was sitting across the table.

"Do you want me to pretend to be something I'm not?" Morgan was searching her face. "Powers can open the doors. He
will
open them, Alex."

"Or?"

"I'll break him, slowly, and with a great deal of pain. I don't think he'll find it worthwhile to keep his mouth shut for more than an hour or so."

"My God."

"Should I be soft and let him and his buddies cause another Arapahoe Junction? Perhaps you'd like to climb among the rubble and dig bodies from beneath--"

"No!"

"I didn't think so." His lips twisted. "But you're having trouble with my image again. Funny. Some women find the smell of death an aphrodisiac."

"What?"

He held up his hand. "What do you see?"

"You know what I see."

"Do you see death? It's there, waiting. A finger on the trigger, a steady hand, a keen eye."

"Stop talking like this. You're making me--"

"Come too close? No one wants to come too close. If it's done for them, they accept it, even while they condemn it. Why not? But no one wants to know what it's like. Turn a blind eye. Maybe it will go away."

But it never went away for Morgan, she realized as she studied him. His expression was hard, with a hint of recklessness, but beneath that facade was . . . what? She didn't know, and she was too uneasy right now to explore the intricacies of what made Morgan tick. They said no one knew a man as well as a woman who slept with him. She had slept with Morgan and found him passionate, gentle, and considerate. Undoubtedly the best lover she had ever had. Yet now he was revealing a side of his character that had nothing to do with the man who had made love to her.

"Jack the Ripper?" Morgan's tone was mocking as he watched her face. "Attila the Hun?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm relieved." He stood up and took his cup to the sink. "But you're still not eager to jump back in bed with me."

"What do you expect? You may not be Jack the Ripper, but you sure do a good imitation of Jekyll and Hyde." Her eyes narrowed. "Or was that intentional? It's a great way to distance me. Isn't that your modus operandi? Distance?" She stood up. "Well, you're going to get it. I can't deal with split personalities at the moment. Get me my computer and let me get to work."

"I'll call Galen and have him send it right away." He headed for the front door. "But it can't happen in the next few hours. He's on his way to Brownsville. Let's get out of here and take a walk. We both need to blow off steam."

"You go. I'll stay here."

"No way. Nothing has changed as far as security goes. We're joined at the hip."

That's not how they'd been joined last night. Dammit, why had the memory popped into her head when she was trying to maintain her cool? Because she was confused and hurt and her body was still aching and sexually attuned to Morgan. Just shut it off as he had done. "You're right. Nothing has changed. I'll get my coat."

They had been outside for only a little over an hour when Morgan's phone rang. "I didn't expect to hear from you this--Shit." He listened for a moment. "Okay, I'm on it. No, don't send anyone else. I'm on it." He hung up. "Galen called from the Houston airport. He was between flights when he heard about the explosion."

"Explosion?"

"The Fairfax Textile factory. The fire department probably won't be able to tell what caused it for weeks. They can't get the fire out."

"A cover-up."

"And an excellent way to dispose of an awkward corpse."

Corpse
. She had never met Scott, but it seemed callous to refer to him in that impersonal manner. "You think they left him to burn up in the fire."

"Probably. If they heard him on the phone with Galen, then they'd know it was too risky not to destroy the plant. Now there's no plant and no Scott." He turned and headed back toward the house. "And by the time that plant collapses, there won't be any basement sporting holes to China."

She hurried to keep up with him. "You told Galen you were on it. Are you going to Houston?"

"No, he found an address on one of Powers's credit-card receipts. I'm going to Indiana. First I'm taking you to your friend Sarah's house on the coast. Logan will be able to deal with the security, and the devil with keeping you away from her. None of us ever thought we'd be in this situation."

"You're not taking me anywhere I don't want to go. I'm not going to be dumped like so much garbage. And if you think I'm going to risk landing all this mess on Sarah's doorstep, you're nuts. Where in Indiana?"

"Terre Haute."

"Do you think there's any chance of the credit-card info being legitimate?"

"A small one. If it's not, I may be able to trace it. Or there's always the goat for the tiger."

"And that means?"

"If he finds someone is trying to trace it, he may come hunting."