Morgan's Hunter (25 page)

He pulled away, sitting up. “I feel like we’re playing Twenty Questions here. It’s just a damn tattoo. It’s no big deal.”

She stared, searching his face. His eyes were guarded, weary. “Right. I’m going to get a drink and snack.” She moved to her bed, yanked the tank top over her head, put on her panties, unzipped the tent. “I missed dinner.” She grabbed the lantern as he captured her arm.

“Morgan, wait.”

“Really can’t; gotta pee.” She never looked back as she left.

She walked to the packs Hunter tied high in a tree, tugged on the rope until hers came down. She took a pack of chicken flavored Ramen noodles from the bag, her fleece, thermal pants and socks. The temperature had dropped considerably.

Morgan swung the lantern around, making certain she was alone. She didn’t want any more run-ins with wild animals—although she believed she could take them on right about now.

What the hell was his problem? They just shared the intimacy of mind-blowing sex, but he couldn’t tell her about his stupid tattoo. Well, screw him. She put kindling on the sleepy campfire embers until they crackled back to life. She heated water for her overdue dinner, sat by the fire for a very long time.

So much had happened that day, all of it leaving her miserable. She’d answered the mystery behind Shelly, Ian and Tom’s deaths, but the waste left her angry and sad. She’d discovered love, the big L-O-V-E, but it would never work. That ripped at her heart.

After the campfire died again and she cleaned up, Morgan dimmed the lantern, unzipped the tent. Her eyes met Hunter’s as she crawled in. She turned to zip the tent closed behind her. “I figured you would’ve fallen asleep.”

He crossed his arms behind his head. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

She tossed him a glance as she zipped herself into her sleeping bag. “There wasn’t any need.” She lay down, reached forward to turn off the light. He grabbed her hand, held her gaze.

She waited for him to say something—anything—to voluntarily share a piece of himself with her—but he didn’t. Hurt, she pulled herself free, switched off the lantern, turned her body away, stared into the darkness.

Several miles away, Robert stood alone in the dark office of the northeast ranger’s station. Miles had left the day before to spend a long weekend at his parents’ home.

Using his shoulder to press the phone to his ear, Robert fiddled with a paperclip, nervously twisting it out of shape while he spoke. “She tried to make contact this afternoon. The radio was only on for a minute, but it was long enough for me to figure out they aren’t where they said they’d be.”

“Well, where the hell are they?”

He cringed. “The beacon placed them ten miles southeast of the Slough. I don’t know where they went from there. It was late afternoon when she tried to check in. I imagine they probably hiked on. I’ll send the guards out to take care of it. They shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“No. Leave this to me. You’ve already fucked it up enough. You should’ve followed them. I’ll regret offing her, but him, I’m going to make it real painful before I put a bullet in his brain.”

Wild laughter bounced through the receiver, leaving a trail of sweat down Robert’s spine. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait for my orders. We’ll take care of them soon, Robert, very soon. I’ll get back to you when I figure out how I want to handle this.”

The big boss hung up and Robert stared into the dark shadows of the forest until he no longer heard the boss’s mad laughter ringing in his ears.

Chapter 21

G
RITTY-EYED AND IRRITABLE, MORGAN DECIDED it was time to get up; she hadn’t slept anyway. She shoved her cover back, sat up, glanced over at Hunter. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she took in the cozy sight of him sprawled across his mattress pad. Stomach down, his cheek pressed against the pillow he’d made with his arm and sleeping bag.

While Morgan had spent the night tossing and turning, her mind racing,
he’d
slept soundly, completely unaffected by what had passed between them. The awkward after-sex snuggle certainly hadn’t left him miserable and confused. How could it? It’d only taken moments for his breathing to steady out and deepen after she’d returned to the tent hours before.

He hadn’t bothered to clue her in as to why he’d gone from hot to cold in the blink of an eye. One minute he’d been the kind of lover every woman dreams of—passionate, attentive,
thorough
—the next he’d all but shoved her out of his sleeping bag, throwing up the ‘No Trespassing’ sign. He’d made it clear there wouldn’t be any encroaching into the mind and heart of Hunter Phillips. Sex would be fine, but everything else was off the table.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Morgan pulled on her boots, unzipped the tent, stepped into the early light of dawn. She breathed in the crisp air as the sun rose over the trees, casting shades of purple as far as she could see. Even in her exhausted, pissy mood, she couldn’t deny the beauty of the morning.

Morgan placed kindling in the rock-ringed fire pit, returned the flames to life. Wood crackled and spit as she walked to the stream, filtered water for breakfast, filled bottles for the day.

Cold to the bone, covered in goose bumps, Morgan sat by the fire, absorbing the welcome heat radiating from the licks of flame. She stirred walnuts and raisins into her big bowl of instant oatmeal as rustling movements in the tent caught her attention. Her fingers paused, tightening on the spoon, as the distinct sound of the tent’s zipper opening filled the still air.

Hunter crawled through the open flap, stood, pulling a green fleece over his head. Morgan looked him up and down while flashes of the night played in her mind.

She shuddered with the memory of what those hands, that mouth, his body could bring hers, what he could make her feel, and she quickly looked away. Despite herself, she glanced back and their eyes met before he walked into the woods.

And just like that, she realized there was nothing between them. There were no inklings of affection after a night shared in passion; just a brick wall of indifference. Morgan stared after him, subconsciously moved closer to the fire, seeking more warmth. She gripped her bowl until her fingers ached, realizing it wasn’t only the cool dawn air and icy mountain water that left her cold.

Trying to shake off the disappointment, the hurt, Morgan ate quickly, wanting to get on with the day. The sooner they alerted the proper authorities about the mine, the faster she could get back to her lynx project.

With the mystery of her team’s deaths solved, she would be able to give her friends’ families the whys behind it all. She hoped they would find some peace—even if she couldn’t.

Hunter would go home. Dave and Jim would come help her finish what the rest of the team couldn’t. That was the way it should be. It was all for the best. Sorrow threatened to consume as she took her last bite of oats and raisins, trying to believe the lies she told herself.

Hunter walked back through the woods and Morgan’s heart stuttered. She watched him—confident strides, breathtakingly gorgeous—wondering how someone she’d known for such a short time had become
everything
.

Tomorrow, perhaps the day after, he would be gone and that would be that. She damned him, knowing he would walk away and never look back, and she would always love him. Hunter was ‘the one’, there was no doubt in her mind, but after last night there was little hope he felt the same.

She shook off the despair sitting heavy on her heart, stood to wash her dish as Hunter came to join her by the campfire.

He cleared his throat. “You’re up early.”

So, he wanted casual? She could do casual. “Yeah, I want to get going. We have a long day ahead.” Morgan walked off with hot water in her small pail.

Hunter ate his breakfast, watching Morgan pack the campsite like a dervish on a mission. Her body was tense, her movements fast and jerky. He chalked it up to an awkward morning-after and hurt feelings over the tattoo. He didn’t like to talk about it, never had. It was a tribute to his fallen brothers and nobody else’s business.

Morgan came out of the tent dressed in hiking pants with her fleece zipped over her dark brown shirt. She took the sleeping bags and air pads she’d rolled from the tent, began to break that down too.

“Where’s the fire? Jesus, Morgan, if you wait five damn minutes I’ll help you. I haven’t even finished my first cup of crappy coffee.”

She fastened the sleeping bag sacks to their packs, attached the tent to his. “I’m fine. I don’t need help. When you’re finished with your crappy cup of coffee you can get dressed and we’ll leave. I’ll even wash your dishes.”

Hunter looked at her injured hand. “We need to change your bandage.”

“I’ll take care of it after I wash your dishes.”

“I can wash my own damn dishes. It’s still dawn, for Christ’s sake. Sit down and chill out. You’re rushing me, and it’s pissing me off.”

“I’m being productive. If you don’t like it, too bad.”

Swearing, Hunter grabbed his clean clothes and walked off with his dishes.

With everything packed and in its place, Morgan sat on a ratty towel next to the campfire, pulling the tape from her wound. She blew on the cut, muttering curses.

Hunter’s brows arched as he listened to the expletives roll off her tongue. He had no idea she could be so imaginative. Stifling a grin, he put the clean dishes in his pack, wandered over to the fire. “Hey, Gutter Mouth, I said I would help you with that.”

She flicked him a glance as she hugged her hand close to her body. “I’m fine. I’ve got it. It’s just a little cut.”

Ignoring her, he sat down. Hunter gathered antiseptic, antibiotic cream, gauze and tape from the first aid kit before he squirted sanitizer in his hands, rubbed them together.

“I said I’ve got it. I don’t need any help here.” Morgan made a grab for the bottle of antiseptic in his lap.

Hunter slapped his hand over hers, held on, looked her in the eye. “I’m going to help you. We have to make sure your wound stays clean.”

“I don’t need your help,” she said, spacing each word between clenched teeth.

With his patience growing thin, he moved his face closer to hers. “I don’t care. Now knock it
off
.” He yanked her wrist forward and she lost her balance, falling against him.

Hunter hissed out a breath as he examined the swollen red gouge. Christ, that had to hurt. The deep purple bruise alone would be painful, not to mention the wound that teetered on needing a visit to the ER and stitches.

“Morgan, this thing’s infected. Look how red it is. You’re not stupid. You know what can happen out here if this isn’t taken care of properly.”

“I’m perfectly aware and more than capable of seeing to it on my own. I didn’t say anything because I knew you were going to freak out.” Frowning, she tried to pull free. “You’ve proven my point.”

Hunter tightened his hold. “I’m not freaking out, but I am going to clean this wound. The sooner I finish, the faster we get out of here.”

Her cool gaze held his until she let out a deep breath. “Fine, let’s get it over with.”

Hunter took a long Q-tip, dipped it into the antiseptic. Morgan looked away, flinching when he gently rubbed the swab over and around the gash.