Damned If You Don't (8 page)

Sam shrugged and turned off the memories.

Instead, he went over his painfully thin dossier on Dr. Morgan Mackenzie one more time. She was a straight arrow. Not even one parking ticket. Spent most of her life, so far, in school or in a lab doing research.

A real geek.

Her mother and father, both older when she was born, were dead. Her mother from breast cancer, her father a few months later. No siblings. A couple of cousins but obviously not real close. When he’d contacted them, they said they hadn’t talked to her in years. Her parents had been professors at a small college in Connecticut, but Dr. Mackenzie had started her academic career at Boston College and finished her doctorate at Columbia University.

You would think that going to school in two major cities would open up a lead or two.

Not.

She couldn’t be this clean. It was…boring.

Sam threw the file on his desk and leaned back in his chair, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. It might not look like there was a crack in the wall, but there had to be one. There always was. And Sam knew he’d better find it. He was in this now up to his eyeballs with no way to turn back.

All of a sudden, his cell phone buzzed on his desk. He snapped forward in his chair. “This had better be what I want to hear.”

“It is, boss. It is. We checked every taxi and limo service just like you said. He paid a guy on the sly. Said he was with a married woman. Cash.”

Sam’s heart started to pound. He took a deep breath, then let the air out slowly. “Where?”

“Virginia Beach.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. Very sure.”

Sam didn’t respond right away. “Three hundred miles. All directions. Especially south.”

“Sorry, sir. Why south?”

“Because Jackson Kent is the best tracker I’ve ever known. And my first inclination is to double back and go north.”

“But I don’t understand, sir. If you think he’s going to double back north, why don’t we concentrate our efforts to the north?”

Sam smiled. “Because he’s also the most unpredictable son of a bitch on the face of the earth, that’s why. And you’d better hope that he doesn’t double back north, because that means he’s going to slip right past you.”

“No he won’t, sir, you can count on me.”

“Oh, I am, Mr. Anderson. I am. Because you know how I feel about failure.”

“Yes, sir.” A thread of fear reverberated through the line, and Sam smiled.

“Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Sam broke the connection. His next step would involve finding an ace in the hole. But for now, the information refreshed him. But he had another call to make. One that darkened his mood immediately.

He punched in a number put the phone up to his ear with a frown. “Hello?”

“We’re closing in.”

“That’s what you told me yesterday. And the day before.” Sam heard the exasperation in his client’s tone and a slow burn began to simmer in his belly.

“And I told you Jack Kent is the best there is,” he snapped back. “Now do you want to do this my way, or lose him altogether?”

He listened to his benefactor sigh. “Good,” he continued. “Now what do you know about Dr. Mackenzie?”

“Why?”

“Because she’s going to run to a safety net, someone in her past. Someone you would know a whole lot easier than I would.”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Because she’s too clean and too boring not to.”

Sam waited while his patron assessed the situation. “I’m not certain,” the voice on the other end of the line replied in a thoughtful tone. “But I’ll get back to you on it.”

“The sooner the better,” Sam replied, his tone sour. “And you’d better make sure I see a deposit in my account by morning. This whole fiasco is costing me a fortune.”

“Understood. As long as you do the same. I’m running out of patience.”

The phone went dead, and Sam stared at it. His hand tightened around the plastic as the burn erupted. One of these days he was going to be able to stop taking orders.

Until then he was going to have to settle.

* * * *

Morgan and Jack reached the hotel in Virginia Beach in the afternoon. As they approached the front desk, Morgan realized she was going to have to share a room with him. The thought must have occurred to them at the same time because he simply looked at her and smiled, daring her to request a second room. And while she wanted nothing more than a long hot soak, a seven, no eight, course meal, and a nine-hour nap, Jack, it seemed, had other ideas.

“Do you want to rest?” he asked her, his tongue shoved deep into his cheek as he stared at the bed in the hotel room.

Bastard. “No. I mean, yes.”

He roared at her discomfort. “Well, I’m going to take a shower.” She didn’t answer. “You sure you don’t want to join me?” He grinned, pointing at the bathroom. “A nice hot shower would do wonders for that disposition of yours.”

“Don’t get started on my disposition, Jack. My psyche would rather I hurt you again.”

“I could make it worth your while,” he continued as if she hadn’t said a word. “A nice massage. Starting at your shoulders. Down your back.”

Morgan shivered in spite of herself. “You certainly have a pair, Jack. I’ll give that to you, so if you don’t want said items tied up in a knot, verrry tightly, I suggest you go into the bathroom and forget all about what you’re thinking right now.”

She watched him shudder. “Heaven forbid. Does that mean the honeymoon’s over?”

“Yes,” she bit out.

“You know, I’m not adverse to having other parts of my anatomy tied up. You know, like wrists, ankles… Not too tight, of course.”

“Jack!” she screamed.

“I’m going; I’m going.”

She listened to the door close and wondered how she wasn’t on the floor rolling. God, he was outrageous.

That’s what you like about him.

“I don’t like him at all,” she muttered under her breath.

You like how he makes you feel.

“Yeah, when he’s not betraying said derriere.”

“Do you always talk to yourself like that?” he asked with a slight smile on his face.

She started, looking up. She hadn’t realized he was still in the room. “No. I thought you were taking a shower.”

“I am. I will. As soon as we get one thing straight.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“This.”

He pulled her hard against him and covered her mouth with his. She fought against him but fought against herself more. Her body knew what she wanted better than her mind. Still, there was always pride.

He let go as swiftly as he’d snared her. “You think about that while I’m in the shower. And remember something.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“It won’t simply go away because you want it to.”

She listened to the water run, knowing he was right. But she didn’t know how to reconcile her emotions. She certainly didn’t know how to separate them. She wanted Jack with every fiber of her being. He was an addiction. He was the dream she had no right dreaming.

On the other hand, she was still furious with him for his betrayal. The only thing that had saved him was his timely rescue of her from Sam’s clutches. And Morgan wasn’t secure enough in her own skin to believe Jack had made love to her because he really couldn’t help himself.

She sat down on the bed, feeling hurt and angry and very confused. He’d asked her to simply feel. But her feelings were tied up tighter than the knots she’d dreamed about tying in the limo.

“I understand, kitten.”

Morgan looked up to see him standing in front of her, a towel slung low over his hips. She couldn’t swallow any better now than the first time she’d seen him this way.

“No you don’t,” she bit out.

His brow lifted. His head cocked as if to ask, oh no?

“Better yet, I don’t, Jack. That’s the problem. I don’t understand. You let me down.” He nodded, his arms widening as if to say
I can’t change that
. “And what you don’t, what you’ll never understand, is how many times in my life that’s happened to me. All I’ve ever wanted was the cowboy and the white horse.”

She watched his features tighten as her knife speared his guts with razor-like accuracy. But to his credit, he simply inhaled, and raked his hand through his hair. “Sorry, kitten,” he told her, expelling that breath. “Wrong guy. I flunked hero school.”

“I figured that out,” she replied with a derisive smile.

He didn’t answer at first. Just sat down on the bed next to her. “I really do care about you, Morgan. Give me some time. I’ll prove it to you.”

Morgan kept on speaking, deciding not to listen to a word he said. “You know what hurts the most? I mean, I know this might not seem true after what happened to us, but it is. I don’t just fall into bed with men.”

He picked up her hand, gently rubbing the back with his thumb. “I believe you. Do you think you could start believing me too?”

“I’m trying, Jack. I really am.”

“Try harder.”

“That is soooo easier said than done. Every time I open the gates on my feelings, those feelings get trampled. You’re smooth, Jack. Almost too smooth. Don’t you get it? I’m really tired of being hurt.”

He grinned, rose, and then gave her a swift peck on the cheek. “Guess I’m going to have to convince you the hard way. Go take your bath. By the time you’re finished, room service will be here.”

Morgan shook her head. Jack was Jack. She rose and shrugged. He wasn’t about to give up but neither was she.

* * * *

Nearly an hour later and feeling definitely more human, Morgan stepped out of the bathroom. The aroma of dinner made her mouth water. He’d even ordered a bottle of wine.

“I thought we were on a budget,” she said, before her tone turned nasty. Was her desire to be bitchy because she was afraid of what would happen if she allowed him to be nice?

“We are. I kept it simple. I could have spent a lot more.” He opened the bottle, pulling out the cork with way more force than necessary. “Do you want to have a glass, or not?”

Morgan frowned. Her emotions were already riding a colossal roller coaster; he didn’t have to add to her angst. Or maybe that was his way of retaliating. “I don’t get it. Not too long ago you were being nice. Now you’re not. You doing the good-cop, bad-cop thing?”

“No. I just got testy. I really am trying.”

“Try harder.”

She watched his jaw clench, but he had the good sense not to answer, which made her feel better.

“I’m hungry,” he stated, placing dishes and cutlery on the small table. “How about we eat first, fight later.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Then we can have make-up sex,” he added with a wink. Funny, but Jack’s moods seemed mercurial. And about as stable as her own.

Morgan threw him a look, sat down at the table, and lifted the cover to her dish. She inhaled. “Heavenly.” The chicken, covered in sauce and mushrooms, looked delicious. And asparagus, green and seemingly cooked to perfection. She lifted her wineglass after he poured.

“What shall we drink to?” he asked. “Us, perhaps?”

“No. Let’s drink to the truth.”

He stared at her as if to say she needed to learn that one as much as he did. However, he lifted his glass and replied, “Truth it is.”

They ate in near silence, both of them starving. Then Jack cleared away the dishes. Once he’d placed the tray in the hallway and come back into the room she asked, “Do you want to go downstairs now and let me show you the data stick?”

“No, I have a better idea.” His gaze lasered into her, bypassing hot, hotter, and hottest all the way to supernova. “I’ll show you my stick first.”

He didn’t give her a chance to say no. He rose, walked around the table, lifted her out of her seat, and simply pulled her tight against his body. Even though Morgan had known he would try, she hadn’t expected immediate capitulation.
Oh, pride? Hello? You in there?

Talk about being betrayed. By her own body, no less. It knew exactly what it wanted and refused to accept no for an answer. He feathered kisses over her forehead, down her cheek, grazing her lips with his. Delicate shivers racked her muscles. Her hands clenched at her sides. She willed them not to move. She refused to give him an inch.

He took a mile. He lifted her up and threw her onto the middle of the bed. “All right, kitten. We’ll play this your way. I already know you’re hotter than a furnace for me right now, but if you want me to prove it, then I guess I’ll just have to prove it.”

He pounced on her, covering her body with his. At first, he simply kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. Until she knew she was going to go insane if he didn’t play with the other parts of her body.

She squirmed, trying to get her hips against his.

He finally came up for air with a soft laugh. “Oh no, kitten. I’m not going to do this with clothes on. So you make up your mind right now. Yes or no?”

Was he kidding?

Morgan found her pride cowering in a corner in the face of desire. God, she was going to hate herself in the morning. Or was she? A thought entered her head that wouldn’t leave. Did she dare? Not one scruple stopped her from taking his hand and placing it squarely on top of her breast.

He bent his head down and lowered his mouth to hers again and all sane thought ceased. He pumped his hips, just as a reminder, and flames shot through her core. He’d wanted this to be his show, so Morgan let him drive. He reached under her shirt to play with her breast as requested. The next thing she knew he decided her shirt had to go and she found her buttons had been unbuttoned and his fingers were pulling on her nipples inside her bra.

She gasped, unconsciously riding him. “Fly with me,” he whispered.

But before she could, his lips locked on hers again. His tongue tasted everywhere inside her mouth. Hers entwined with his as pure heat filled her body.

This getting dressed, getting undressed, business would have to go. He flipped over onto his back. “The jeans,” he choked out as he bit and sucked his way down her neck.

Morgan scooted to the side a little and unsnapped them. He let out a heartfelt sigh of relief when the denim folds parted. She rubbed her hand up and down the hard length of him through his boxers and he shook his head. Her turn to grin.