Читать книгу Eagle Warrior - Jenna Kernan, Jenna Kernan - Страница 13
ОглавлениеRay returned to Morgan’s kitchen to find Jack alone at the dinette taking notes on a notepad.
Ray’s head swiveled. “Where’s the girl?”
“Bedroom. Morgan’s with her. Lisa was crying.”
Ray’s fists clenched and he considered taking Lisa’s distress out on Mr. Heron.
“Everything okay?” asked Jack, lifting his chin in the direction of the neighbor.
“He’s not bleeding, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ray briefly related the high points of his chat with her dorky, slimy neighbor.
“He knows from the girl that Karl had money. Not how much. But he’s already put two and two together.”
Ray hoped he had reached an understanding with Guy Heron. But in his experience, the one thing that trumped fear was greed.
“We’re done here,” said Jack. “You’ll be staying in her father’s room.”
Appropriate, he thought because her father and he shared certain things. They were both Turquoise Guardians, Apache men and they both had a tendency to break the law. The downside of the room choice was that Karl had a big bed and it was right across the hall from the tempting Morgan Hooke.
“You staying while I get my kit?” asked Ray.
Jack nodded and laced the fingers of his massive hands on the dining room table.
“Be back as quick as I can.”
* * *
RAY MOVED QUICKLY, scouting once around the perimeter before returning to Felix Potts’s home to retrieve his belongings. He returned from Potts’s house and moved his truck, parking prominently in the driveway beside Jack’s tribal police SUV. Then he pulled his olive green gunnysack over one shoulder and lifted his small duffel, which held mostly weapons.
When he reached the kitchen stoop he was greeted by a gray cat that meowed loudly. Then it stood and rubbed against his leg.
“You live here, too?” he asked.
He rapped on the door and let himself in. The cat scooted past him.
He found Jack leaning with his back to the sink beside Morgan who stood at the stove. The aroma of tomato soup and cooking macaroni greeted him. Morgan stopped stirring the contents of one pot and held the dripping spoon poised over it as she watched him drop his things beside the door, wipe his feet and step into the space. Maybe he should have knocked.
Jack pushed off the sink, which was good because Ray thought there was only one reason to stand that close to a woman. Jack was single. So was Morgan. It shouldn’t have mattered because Morgan was a job and a burden, yet her boyish looks had unexpectedly hit him down low and deep. So it did matter.
He glared at Jack, who lifted his brows in surprise and moved out of the kitchen.
“Need any help?” asked Jack.
Ray shook his head.
“I’ll check in tomorrow. Let you know what else we get from the bank manager.”
Since Jack wasn’t allowed to use his fists with the same liberty as Ray, he doubted he’d get much. Little dweebs like that always lawyered up.
Jack called a farewell to Lisa and then to Morgan.
“You’re in good hands, Morgan. I’d trust Ray Strong with my life. You can do the same.”
She thanked Jack with a sincerity that made Ray scowl all over again. He could see them together—naked. Ray rubbed his eyes. Jack shook his hand and headed out into the night. Ray locked the door behind him and found satisfaction in the click.
The cat rubbed against his leg and meowed loudly again.
“What?” Ray asked it. “If you want food you’re at the wrong human.”
“Cookie!” Morgan ran to the feline and lifted the boneless ball of fluff. “Where did you find her? Lisa will be so happy.”
In Ray’s experience cats never needed finding. Morgan squeezed the cat, which now hung over her shoulder, its green eyes watching Ray. Morgan carried the cat to Lisa’s room and was met with squeals of delight from the interior. When Morgan came back, her smile eased away at the sight of him still in her kitchen.
“How’s your girl?” asked Ray.
“Better now that she has Cookie.” Her smile was so sweet and so compelling, Ray took a step toward her before he realized he had moved.
“Detective Bear Den said that you would work for room and board as a favor to my father.” He’d work for nothing, but staying on site would make it much easier to guard Lisa and Morgan.
Morgan poured the macaroni into a colander in the sink, sending steam billowing upward.
If Morgan Hooke knew the location of the two hundred thousand dollars, would she be eating condensed soup for dinner?
“And on behalf of your medicine society.”
He nodded and tugged at his drying shirt, wishing he could avoid this chatting.
“Tribal Thunder,” said Morgan. “I never heard of that sect.”
He really could not speak of his medicine society with a woman, even an Apache woman like Morgan. But he did say that it was a warrior sect.
“We’ve vowed to protect the sovereignty of our heritage, resources and tribe.”
“And I fall under tribe,” she said, flipping on the hot water and engaging the sprayer to give the limp pasta a shower. Deftly she dumped the noodles back into the pot, added milk, butter and the envelope of fluorescent yellow cheese-like product. Then the pot went back on the stove on a low flame.
“I added another box because—” she waved a clean wooden spoon at him “—you look hungry.”
Wow, she shouldn’t have said that. He stepped closer. Her eyes rounded. He closed in on an impulse so strong he didn’t even question it.
He wrapped her up and found that slippery cocktail dress made her glide up his chest as if she wore satin. When he angled his head to kiss her she pointed the clean end of the wooden spoon into his chest like the butt end of a nightstick.
The mac and cheese was sizzling as the milk boiled away.
“Bad idea,” she said, but then licked her wide lower lip, sending him mixed signals.
“That’s what I’m best at.”
She pulled away and he let her go.
They faced off.
“Listen, you might have some ideas about me because I have a child and no husband. And because I serve drinks. So let me set you straight. I’m not interested in casual sex.”
“Great. Because sex is one of two things I take very seriously.”
She lowered the spoon. “What’s the other?”
“Protecting you and Lisa.”
* * *
MORGAN STARED UP at her protector. He stood only an arm’s length from her with his hand still resting on her shoulder. His face was clean-shaven, revealing the hard line of his jaw and his prominent chin. It looked like the kind of jaw that could take a punch and the kind of chin that dared you to try. He had tousled thick black hair that needed a trim and a wide square forehead with heavy brows. His brown eyes now seemed to hold a hint of green and shone with mischief. He wasn’t done with her, they seemed to say. Not by a long shot. His mouth quirked, confirming her suspicion. The man was imposing as all get out, but right now that was what she needed. A man capable of taking care of things as well as her and her daughter.
Morgan understood the seriousness of her situation. It was bleeding into her consciousness like dye into fabric.
“You going to be able to do this?” she asked.
He never took his eyes off her as he nodded.
Ray Strong cocked his head, lifting a hand to trail his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her neck and on to the hollow at her throat. She shivered as sensation rocked her.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said.
His grin promised devilment.
Trouble.
“Mom?”
