Morgan's Hunter (9 page)

Morgan glanced at his profile—hard-set and tense, but stunning nevertheless. She folded her hands together, knuckles whitening, as she remembered the way his electric blue eyes had locked on hers while she stood pressed against his hard, muscled body. When his lips had been a whisper from hers and his gaze flicked down to her mouth, she’d thought he would kiss her, and hell if she knew why, she’d wanted him to.

She was going to have to think about that.

They checked into the upscale hotel and walked to their rooms in silence. Hunter waited while Morgan swiped her keycard. She stepped into her room, flicked on the light, turned to look at him one last time, and with smug satisfaction slammed the door in his face. With any luck, she’d broken his nose.

As she sent the deadbolt home, someone knocked. Morgan blew out a breath, turned the lock back.

Hunter leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “You forgot to ask who I was.”

“What do you want?”

“Since I’m officially on duty and we’ll be in separate rooms tonight, I wanted to do a quick safety check. You failed the first part.”

With a frustrated huff, she shut the door again.

Morgan walked to the king-sized bed, placed her carry-on and laptop case beside her as she sat on the mattress. She closed her eyes on a sigh, moved her tense shoulders in slow, smooth circles. Coils of strain began to release when she heard the rapping sound once more and ignored it.

The knock came again and her eyes snapped open. She wasn’t going to answer. Determined that Hunter wouldn’t get the best of her, she walked over to the window with a view of the pool, closed the curtains, flicked on the television.

The rapid, steady bang of knuckle against wood continued. Damn it, this man was insufferable. Swearing, she rushed forward, yanking on the knob. “What
is
it?”

“Yikes, failed again. You still didn’t ask who I was, but I just wanted to say good night. You forgot to say good night.”

Morgan stared into eyes dancing with humor and glared. “
Good night
, Hunter.”

She shut the door, peered through the peephole, waiting for the knock again. Instead, she saw him grinning as he turned and walked to his own room.

Morgan realized she was grinning too.

Chapter 9

“D
AMN IT, MORGAN. ARE YOU
aiming
for the potholes?”

“Well, where do you suggest I drive to avoid them?” She glanced over, frowning, before giving her attention back to the road. “It’s either the dirt road and potholes or the forest and trees. I’ll let you decide.”

“Try for a little more finesse. Jesus.” Hunter lurched forward, swore again when the front tires bounced through a lake-sized hole. The last mile and a half had been full of them. Maintenance on the back roads of Yellowstone weren’t a high priority, especially when they were used mostly by the rangers.

The tall pines and Rockies in the distance created a stunning picture, but the bone rattling bumps and threat of whiplash made the view nearly impossible to enjoy.

“If you think you can do better, you drive next time. Oh good, I see the turnoff for the ranger’s station.”

“Thank
God
.”

Hunter learned two things as they drove from Bozeman to the northeast entrance of Yellowstone that morning. Morgan couldn’t drive for shit, and a person’s life really did flash before their eyes prior to death. He’d seen moments of his flicker by when she’d cut off a tractor trailer on Interstate 90.

The white-knuckled ride hadn’t stopped there. He’d foolishly dozed, and when he awoke thirty minutes later and glanced at the speedometer, the orange needle hovered at eighty-five. To make matters worse, Morgan danced in her seat while belting out Pink’s newest song along with the radio. Instead of telling her to slow down, Hunter had stared in utter fascination and cringed when she’d hit the rumble strip, yanking the steering wheel—hard, pulling them back in their lane.

After that, Hunter checked his seatbelt—several times—waiting for their exit.

Morgan took the right turn for the small parking lot that lead to the remote ranger’s lodge and pulled into a spot.

When they both got out, Hunter looked up to the sky, outstretched his arms. “I’m alive! I’m alive!”

A reluctant smile tugged at Morgan’s mouth as she turned, walking to the back of the car. “Very funny, Bodyguard Phillips.”

“There’s absolutely nothing funny about your driving, Morgan. Nothing.” He joined her, pulling the large suitcase from the trunk.

“So I’ve been told. My team teased me often.” She hoisted her pack, put the strap of her laptop case on her shoulder, grabbed her carry-on and started toward the trail.

“Didn’t you forget something?” Hunter looked down at the enormous suitcase at his feet.

Morgan glanced at the piece of luggage, then at him, smiled. “Nope, don’t think so.” She started through the trees, disappearing from his sight.

He was tempted to leave it, but on a sigh, hoisted the suitcase and followed.

Thick vegetation surrounded the path as they made their way up the half-mile trail to the station. Fresh pine filled the crisp mountain air.

At the halfway point, Morgan stopped to pull off her sweatshirt, exposing a quick glimpse of smooth flesh before her pale green t-shirt fell against her blue jeans. “It’s getting warm. I think we’re almost there.”

“Well, that’s super.” Hunter dropped the suitcase that weighed more than she did, flexed his cramping fingers. “When we leave this place again, you’ll be carrying your own damn luggage.”

“Think of it this way: you’re also carrying half of
your
luggage. Since you didn’t trouble yourself to bring half the items necessary for our backcountry outing, I brought them for you. Wasn’t that nice of me?” She picked up her belongings, flashed him a grin that wasn’t entirely friendly before continuing along.

“I brought everything I need.”

“Yeah, if you’re Crocodile Dundee. You can thank me later when you and your sleeping bag have a mattress pad to rest on.”

“And who gets to carry all of this when we start hiking? It sure as hell isn’t going to be me. I told you before, I’m not your servant.”

That stopped her in her tracks. Whirling around, she moved forward until they were toe to toe.

He tortured himself by breathing her in.

“Listen to me, you jerk. I don’t have servants. I can take care of myself. The only reason you’re here is because I couldn’t find a way around it. Believe me, I tried.” With a withering glare, she left him behind.

Minutes later, the small path steepened, the tree line thinned, growing rockier with every step. They came to a clearing where the dark brown cabin sat nestled among a grouping of tall pine trees.

“Not exactly the Hilton,” Hunter said, scanning his surroundings. The square one story building wasn’t any larger than a small summer cottage. A large picture window trimmed in white occupied most of the left wall next to the front door. Smaller windows winked in the sunshine at the side of the house.

“This practically is the Hilton compared to what we’ll find in the wilderness. I thought you knew how to rough it.” Sneering, Morgan shook her head. “Let’s just remember you’re my associate when we meet the rangers who live here.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Well, now there’s a change.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Christ, she was a spitfire.

Two men dressed in park service uniforms stepped from the front door. Hunter felt an itch between his shoulder blades as Morgan greeted them with a friendly smile.

“Hello, I’m Morgan Taylor.” She offered her hand to the attractive baby-faced blond.

“Hi, Ms. Taylor, I’m Miles Jones. We’re glad to have you with us.”

The tall fifty-something next to Miles stepped forward, took her hand next. “Robert Hammand, Ms. Taylor. Welcome.”

“Thank you.” Morgan flicked Hunter a glance when he didn’t make a move to introduce himself. “This is my associate, Hunter Phillips.”

Hunter shook Robert’s outstretched hand, deciding on the spot he didn’t like something he saw in the man’s flint gray eyes. “Thanks for having us.”

“We’re happy to.” Robert smiled.

“You two found the bodies of Morgan’s team.” Hunter heard Morgan’s sharp intake of breath while he watched Robert and Miles, gauging reactions.

Robert’s smile disappeared. “Yes, I’m afraid we did. A real tragedy.”

“Not to mention random, don’t you think? You and Mr. Jones were the last to see them alive, right?”

He watched the well-built twenty-something glance at Robert.

“Please excuse my associate.” Morgan’s eyes widened, full of shocked warning as they stared into Hunter’s.

“I’m trying to get everything straight,” Hunter said.

Robert held Hunter’s gaze a moment longer. “Let’s show you two to your room.” He gave Morgan a friendly smile, turned to walk toward the station. “Your equipment arrived from the Bureau late last week, Ms. Taylor. We put the cases in storage.” He pointed to the brown building set back from the cabin.

“Great, I’d like to do inventory at some point today.”

“Sure, just ask me or Miles. We’ll open the shed for you.”

Hunter followed Morgan and Robert into the tiny house. The scent of stale coffee mingled with pine as they walked into the wood paneled office making up the majority of the station. A short hallway sectioned the galley kitchen, two bedrooms and bathroom from the ranger’s official work area.

“We’ll put you and Mr. Phillips in here,” Robert said to Morgan as he moved down the hall and stepped into the small bedroom.

There was barely enough space for two bodies to stand, let alone three. Hunter peered in from the doorway. Two twin beds were crammed together. Someone would have to crawl over the first bed to get to the second. The room was no longer than the mattress. A small shelf had been nailed to the wall above the beds. An ugly dented metal lamp took residence in its center. They would be sharing the closet. The amenities didn’t include bureaus or chests of drawers. There simply wasn’t room.

“Sorry about the accommodations, folks. This room is meant for one. Miles usually sleeps in here. We shoved this other bed in, but—” Robert shrugged. “It’s going to be pretty close quarters. I wish we had something else to offer. If this is too awkward—”

“No, no, this is fine.” Morgan touched Robert’s arm. “We appreciate your hospitality.”

“I’ll leave you to settle in and give you fair warning. The shower doesn’t always cooperate. Sometimes we have hot water, but it’s never guaranteed.”

“Thank you, Robert.” Morgan smiled.

Hunter stepped in when Robert left the room.

Morgan closed the door, whirled around. “What is your problem? Why were you so rude?”

“I wasn’t.” He dropped her suitcase on the scarred wooden floor with a thud.

“Close enough. You didn’t go out of your way to be friendly, and the first words out of your mouth were practically an interrogation. We’re going to be living with these people for the better part of a month. That was completely unacceptable. I expect you to apologize.”

“You do, do you? Well, I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one.” Hunter set his pack on the bed.

With a deep sigh, Morgan closed her eyes, pressed her index finger and thumb against the bridge of her nose, pinching. “You’re impossible, absolutely impossible. I’m going out to inventory my equipment. I’ll put my stuff away after you’ve finished.”

Hunter blocked her path with his body. “I want you to wait for me.”

“Forget it.”

He grabbed her arm as she tried to walk by. “Morgan, if you go to the shed, you stay put. Don’t wander off.”

She gave him a “fuck you” scoff and stepped from the room.

“I mean it, Morgan,” he said as she walked down the hall and out the door without sparing him another glance.

Her dark scent lingered. He clenched his jaw. If he’d ever met a bigger pain in his ass, they certainly weren’t coming to mind. Her stunning looks were equally matched by her ugly attitude. If this kept up, she wouldn’t have to worry about potential threats from others; he’d kill her himself.

Miles headed toward a government-issued pickup when she stepped outside. The cloudless blue sky cheered her instantly. She fought to forget the insufferable man she’d left behind. Feeling friendly again, she called out, “Excuse me, Miles, could you unlock the shed? I would really like to get a look at my equipment before I use it this week.”

“Sure, Ms. Taylor.” His brown eyes warmed as he smiled.

“Please, call me Morgan.”

“All right, Morgan, I’d be happy to open the shed.” He unlocked the padlock, walked away.

“Miles?”

He stopped, turned.

“I want to apologize for Hunter’s rudeness. He can be pretty impossible.”

He smiled again, shrugging slightly. “Don’t worry about it.” He walked to the truck, got in, drove down the narrow access road.