Damned If You Don't (13 page)

“Listen,” a voice said from far away, now stern with a hint of concern. “We’ve stayed in one place long enough. You’ve got fifteen, no, thirteen, minutes to get ready.”

“Bite me.”

“I would, kitten,” came Jack’s amused reply. “But that would only end up delaying us even further. Now, no matter how appealing the idea, I don’t want to get rough. Well, maybe I do, but we can save that kind of stuff for later.”

Jack? Where the hell was she? A moment ago she was dreaming they were on the beach, in a tight embrace, waves crashing over entwined legs.

She groaned. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock.”

“You’re dead.”

“Quite possibly. More certainly if you don’t move. So how do we play this? The hard way or the easy way? Personally speaking, I’d prefer the hard way.”

She bit out a physically impossible expletive, half opening one eye. “Coffee.”

“On the nightstand,” he answered, his laughter grating on her last nerve. “One shot. Almost espresso, if such a thing is possible out of this coffeemaker. Eleven minutes.”

“Bastard.”

He didn’t seem fazed by her ire at all. “I could always tickle you, you know.”

Her other eye popped open. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He raised a single brow. “I wouldn’t?”

Morgan knew better. “I’m up,” she answered with a tired sigh.

“You’ve got ten minutes. You can sleep in the car.”

She lifted up onto one elbow. “Impossible. No way. I need a shower.”

“All right. Fifteen. Or I come in and get you.”

Morgan rose and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Every muscle in her body ached. Her psyche screamed for her to go back to bed.

“Car?” she asked, glad she wasn’t totally brain-dead.

“You’ll see.”

She downed the coffee in two gulps and staggered to the bathroom. The shower helped immensely even though her stomach rebelled at the abuse of straight black espresso with no milk.

She’d aired out her clothes as best she could but wrinkled her nose as she put them back on. “I’m going to need fresh clothes.”

“When we get to our next stop.”

“All right.”

She brushed out her hair and made a halfhearted attempt at putting on some makeup. Then she stood in front of him and waited. She stared at him; he simply looked at her. Her brow furrowed.

“What are we waiting for?”

He laughed. “Directions. I have no idea where we’re heading, remember?”

With a grin she replied, “Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea. I think we still need to go south, but we also need to head west. Atlanta.”

He simply nodded. That he didn’t judge simply amazed her. “All right.”

A taxi took them near the airport, and she liked that Jack chose the least obtrusive of the car-rental companies. However, she watched in horror as he pulled out a license and credit card. His quick, sharp glance cautioned her to be careful, and he explained once they were in the car.

“The ID is fake, and the card is prepaid under that name. But don’t get any ideas about replacing the Ferragamos or buying a Louis Vuitton. The well has a bottom to it.”

Morgan laughed and reached out to squeeze his hand. Damn bucket seats. But they would let her lie all the way back and take a nap.

“Why don’t you try to get some rest?” he asked, his smile gentle.

“What about you?”

“I don’t need much sleep. Old habits die hard. My norm is five or six at a clip, so I’m good. I can still go twenty-four without full sleep when I need to.”

Morgan realized that must have been from his Ranger days. But she didn’t comment on it. The past was the past. End of story. “Then I’m going to take you up on your offer. I’m beat.”

She lowered the back of the seat and settled in, but she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind wouldn’t let her. So she stepped back from the situation to process. Above all, she didn’t want anyone to get hurt. She liked Jack’s idea of using leverage to keep BioClin in check, but crunch time was fast approaching. Loosely formed thoughts of being rescued by Dr. Lee needed to be defined into a plan of action, or else she would put him, and God forbid, his family, in danger.

The first step was to meet with him, preferably in some kind of neutral territory. The second step was to hide him from Sam until they could begin fixing her work. Her mind kicked into overdrive. Was there a way to do both? As she processed, she thought out loud.

“Jack, we need to get a hold of Dr. Lee and explain the situation first without Sam finding out. If he decides to help us, knowing the risks, then we also need to keep him safe.”

He didn’t answer right away, and she figured he was processing too. “Our first priority is a safe haven,” he said. “Then BioClin needs to be told that someone has the data but not whom.”

“But what if they find out?”

“Right now, bad publicity would be a good safety. We tell them if they continue to harass you or they fire you, you’re going to go to the press.”

Morgan mulled on that for several mile markers. A deep pain welled inside her along with a full burst of anger. But once the anger started to simmer, Morgan realized she’d never really had a choice. “You’re right. I’d rather have the data lost forever than let it be misused.”

“You’re taking this really well, kitten. I’m impressed. I’d be spitting mad.”

“I am, Jack. Believe me, I am. But I also learned my lesson the hard way. It can’t be about the work or the science anymore. And certainly not my pride. Not when people’s lives are at stake.”

He smiled and nodded, and Morgan sat back, satisfied that if she couldn’t have her cake, then no one else would. Her anger continued to simmer just below the surface and probably always would at the enormous waste of information and hard work. But more important were the benefits those obese patients would never utilize. That was the true crime of this whole mess.

All of a sudden, Morgan saw a road sign and sat bolt upright. Her heart started hammering double-time in her chest. “Where the hell are we going?”

“To Boston.”

“Boston? Are you nuts? We need to go to Atlanta.”

She threw him a hard look only to have it caught by a little-boy grin. “We have some unfinished business to take care of first.”

Morgan didn’t understand. Confusion roiled in her belly, adding to her physical problem of being slightly carsick. “Whoa. Wait a minute, Jack. I’ve just spent the last two weeks running away from the lion’s den. Now you simply want me to walk up to them and say hi, how are you? I don’t get it.”

A slow smile grew on his face. “I was thinking of the Purple Martin.”

“Now I know you’re crazy. That’s a bed-and-breakfast. We don’t need a bed; we can do that anywhere. Already have, if memory serves me correctly.”

He burst out laughing. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist teasing you. You looked like you were about to freak out on me.”

“I was. And I’m not in the mood for games. Cars, traveling—I get motion sick, as you should have remembered. All of which make my patience wear thin. So I think you’d better explain. Pronto.”

“First, a little misdirection,” he replied, making a soothing gesture with one hand. At least he knew enough to keep the other on the steering wheel. “I’m betting Sam already knows about Dr. Lee and is expecting us to go directly to the good doctor. I’m thinking more of an end around.”

Morgan shook her head at the reference to football, wondering if he knew she was a sports nut. Then again, there were a lot of things they didn’t really know about each other yet, things she wanted to learn. To do that, they both needed to stay alive.

“Wouldn’t he think exactly the way you’re thinking right now?”

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take, kitten. But I’m betting he’s got his hands full. He’s got BioClin on one side and me on the other.”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and thrusting her chin out. “Point taken. So why don’t you explain what you plan on doing once we get to Boston? We’ve got a ways to go yet,” she ended, her tone full of snark.

“All right. Here goes,” he continued, totally ignoring her attitude. “So far, all BioClin knows is that you have all the data for your experiments and they don’t. They hired Sam, and then he sent me to track you down and bring you and the data back. But I’m the best there is.”

“Egomaniac,” she muttered with disdain.

He shook his head no with a smile, and she knew what he was thinking. “I think there’s someone else in the company, or connected to the company, who has a whole lot more at stake in all of this than just missing data.”

Morgan stiffened as she realized how close Jack was to the truth. “Think logically,” he continued. “BioClin would never ransack your home. Violating a person’s space is very disturbing, very threatening on a personal level. And very illegal. Only someone with an intimate knowledge of what you do would have been reading your—that’s right, notebook.”

She shuddered a little in memory. The murderer, perhaps? “Go on.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Now my guess is that this particular someone started to orchestrate. He—or she—started sabotaging your image to the company, and they bought it. As soon as they did, they gave this ‘conductor’ the freedom to work behind your back.”

“I never saw any of it,” she breathed, hurt and horror mixing with the sickness in her belly. The bastard who murdered that poor woman had tried to pin it on her.

He snorted. “You wouldn’t. You were obviously too busy trying to do the right thing—complete the project they’d asked you to complete—the right way.”

“Talk about being naive.”

She watched him nod, but his smile eased the sting caused by the truth. Without realizing, Morgan started thinking out loud. “I don’t understand. Why would they back me into a corner?”

She was asking about a murderer, but Jack answered, clearly thinking they were still discussing BioClin. “For that very reason. Because they wanted someone more pliable, someone easier to deal with, someone who knew exactly what needed to be done and promised to do it.”

“Including ransacking my house? Stealing my work?”

“This someone wanted you out of the picture. They wanted you fired so they could take over your work.”

Now that made sense. Only the murderer didn’t want to take over her work. The fiend wanted to keep everyone else from finding out about what they had done.

“They must have known BioClin would close their eyes as long as everything worked out. And then you threw in the monkey wrench. You took the data, you wiped out the files, and you ran.”

“So they sent you to find me.”

“But I’m the best there is, kitten. All ego aside. So whoever’s been orchestrating all of this is going to do whatever they have to, to get BioClin’s property back. BioClin’s not the real threat. This ‘conductor’ is. So you were right when you decided to run.

“But I’m betting there’s more,” Jack continued. “I’m betting you know something this someone doesn’t want you to know. And the best way to find that out is to find out who’s pulling your strings. I’m positive Sam knows. And I believe that whoever it is will be willing to make a trade—the data for your silence. Along with the threat of exposure if they try to hurt you. So we’re going back to where it all started and put an end to the nonsense once and for all.”

Morgan didn’t answer. She didn’t dare. Sooner than later she was going to have to tell him the truth. And that would make him an accessory to murder too.

Chapter Thirteen

Sam Ormond did indeed have his hands full. But his mind wasn’t on the task at hand. The huge mounds and dark nipples should have been all consuming, but lately one body became the same as the next until they were all sort of a blur. Veronica, Tammy, jeez, he couldn’t even remember the name of the woman he was in bed with. Wait a minute. Carol; that was it.

She had a certain amount of talent; he had to give her that. Her fingers and hot, greedy little mouth brought him to the brink. And she’d come once already. But his mind remained strangely detached. He could feel his lower half fill, grow heavy and ready to shoot his seed. Yet his thoughts were on—Jack.

Maybe it was for the best that his dumb-ass partner had grown a conscience. Sam wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he didn’t like the way things were going, and that maybe, just maybe, he’d gotten himself into something he might not get out of.

She was building again. And she smelled good. At least now he’d be able to get her off again before he came. He buried his face in her neck and nipped at her skin. Her staccato moans each time he thrust into her told him she was enjoying herself. Some hot, hard sex to clear his head might even help him relax.

Funny what happened to the best-laid plans.

Sam pumped harder, and nature finally took over. For a few bliss-filled moments, he was able to turn his mind off and focus on the task at hand. He pulled out of her to the nether edge and then thrust deep inside. She screamed and convulsed all around him, and that pushed him over the brink. With a resounding roar, Sam fell over the precipice and came with her, coming in mighty pulses. But he pulled out of her strangely unfulfilled.

To his dismay, she turned out to be one of the clingy ones.

“You’ll call?”

He sighed and sat up. “I said I would.”

“You’ve got my number?”

He recited her phone number verbatim, knowing once he was out the door, he’d deliberately forget.

Her hand ran down the curve of his ass as he rose. He shivered, but the feeling wasn’t from excitement. Obviously he’d had enough of the bed-hopping routine.

Padding into the bathroom, he removed the condom and cleaned up. He dressed in minutes and stood by the door, ready to pay the price of indulgence with an awkward moment. Then his phone buzzed.

He answered just as she approached and locked lips with him. He really did have to admit she had a talented mouth, but he broke the kiss saying, “I have to go. Business.”

She pouted, ran her finger down his chest, and stepped back.

“Yeah,” he barked into the phone. “Just a minute.”

He opened the door of the apartment and smiled, smelling freedom. She made a sign of a phone with her thumb and pinkie next to her cheek, and he nodded. As soon as the door closed, however, his face tightened.