"Dead Aim" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johansen Iris)

7

"I'm glad you enjoyed my chicken, Alex. Not that I expected anything else." Galen stood up and started to clear the table. "I thought you deserved a good meal, considering Morgan is entirely lacking in that skill."

"It was delicious." She stood up and started to stack the dishes. "I'll help you wash up." "I usually leave that for Morgan. The drudgery factor is humbling, and God knows he needs it." Morgan's gaze was narrowed on Alex's face. "I'll pass tonight." He stood up. "I believe she wants to do something besides wash dishes. I'll go scout around the grounds." He was too damn perceptive, she thought in frustration as she carried the plates into the kitchen. Galen followed her and started putting dishes into the dishwasher. "Is he right?"

"Yes. Morgan says you're leaving in the morning."

"Yep, but I'm not totally deserting you."

"Morgan told me that too. But I'm going to have to rely principally on him. That makes me very uneasy."

"It shouldn't. In many ways he's savvier than I am. Though I hate to admit it." He paused. "Nah, scratch that. It's just that we've had experiences in different areas."

She smiled reluctantly. It was difficult not to smile at Galen. Morgan was right, he was an original. "I don't care about his experiences. I care about his character. I can't read him."

"And you don't trust him." "Dammit, he kills people." "True."

"Isn't that enough to cause anyone to take a step back?" "In your experience, has he killed anyone who didn't deserve killing?"

"That's not the point."

"If it makes you feel better, he's not in the business any longer. He's retired. He took this job as a favor to me."

"And what else could tempt him to return to the 'business'?"

"I don't know. He's a bit of a puzzle at times."

"My thought exactly. But I can't afford puzzles. I have to know-I have to trust him."

"Then you'll have to make up your own mind."

"But you trust him."

He nodded. "But it's always been instinct. I'd rather have him in my corner than anyone except my wife."

"And he said she wanted to cut his throat."

Galen nodded. "Elena doesn't forgive and forget."

"And she has something to forgive?"

"Oh, yes."

"But you don't agree with her?"

"Not entirely."

"You're not going to talk about it."

"It wouldn't inspire you with confidence." He started the dishwasher. "Suppose I fill you in on all I know about Judd's background instead?"

"I'll take whatever I can get."

He started to wipe off the countertops. "Well, I guess I should start with the North Korea debacle…"

The kitchen was clean and the dishwasher was humming through its cycle when he finished speaking. He gave her a puckish grin. "And that's all you'll get out of me. You can beat me. You can tear out my fingernails, but I won't-"

"Shut up, Galen." She was trying to digest everything he'd told her. "I don't know much more than when I started about how he thinks, do I? You don't know anything else about him?"

"Let's see, he's mentioned he was an Air Force brat and grew up all over the world. He speaks six languages fluently. I guess going into the service was a logical step for him." He turned to face her. "You're right, all this isn't going to help you. You're probably going to have to rely on instinct, like me."

"That's scary."

"It depends on the instinct." He smiled. "I'm going to call Elena and then I'm going to bed. When Judd comes back, tell him I've spilled my guts to you. I wouldn't like him to think I'd go behind his back."

She watched him leave the kitchen and then moved toward the front door. A cold blast of air struck her as she went out on the porch.

"You should put on a coat if you're going to be out here very long." Morgan was moving down the walk toward her. "It's almost freezing."

"I thought you might be lurking on the porch."

"I don't lurk. I did what I told you I'd do. I needed to famil iarize myself with the area." He climbed the steps and opened the front door. "You never know when it might come in handy. Get inside. You're having problems with maintaining body temperature anyway."

"Not anymore. I'm fine." But the warmth of the room felt good as she went inside. "Galen told me to tell you that he spilled his guts to me."

"Not a pretty phrase." He took off his coat and hung it in the closet. "Not a great thing to do. But I expected you to squeeze it out of him." He turned to face her. "He probably knew it wouldn't make any difference in the long run."

"Is that why you left us alone?"

"Yes. Do you feel better now?"

"Why should I feel better? You're already in so much hot water that I have no hold on you." "Sorry." He studied her for a moment. "What can I do to help?" She stared at him and then laughed incredulously. "I be lieve you really mean that."

"I do. I want you comfortable with me."

"Then tell me about that man in the sketch. Tell me about the man who shot Ken down."

He didn't answer her for a moment. "I ran into him several months ago in Fairfax, Texas. I was sent there for a job and I saw him earlier that night."

"You're sure it was him?"

He nodded. "That night is pretty well engraved on my memory."

"Did you see any of the other men?"

"No. But that doesn't mean they weren't there. The place was a beehive of activity."

"What kind of beehive?"

"Labs. I thought it was a damn strange place for Morales to be." "Morales?"

"The target. Juan Morales, big-time narcotics and arms dealer. At the time I speculated that maybe the Fairfax factory was purifying heroin or manufacturing crack or ecstasy."

"At the time? Not now?"

He shook his head. "You want some coffee?"

"Am I going to need it?"

He shook his head again. "Nothing very horrific hap pened that night. Well, I guess it might be to you. My orders were to take out Morales at the hotel in town and retrieve a briefcase he was carrying. It was supposed to be jammed full of money. I couldn't get a shot at the hotel, so I followed Morales to this little textile factory on the outskirts of town. He was met at the gate by your shooter in the sketch. There was lots of security, so I waited outside. When he came out, I followed him back to town, got an opportunity, and took my shot."

"You killed him?"

"I don't miss. Since I didn't get a chance to do the job be fore he went to the factory, I thought I'd better check the briefcase to make sure he didn't give the money to the man who met him at the gate."

"And?"

"No money. Just three sets of engineering plans with interesting notations. Strategic locations where to place explosives to bring down the structure. They even had suggestions as to what kind of explosives would work best."

"What structures?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. There were no names.

The plans were labeled Z-l, Z-2, and Z-3."

"What did you do with them?"

"I did as I was ordered. I took the briefcase to AI Leary, my

CIA contact, and told him the job was done but there was no money, only the plans. I could tell he wasn't pleased that I'd opened the briefcase, but he covered it almost immediately. Two days later I was sent to North Korea. The rest is history. I didn't even connect the two jobs until I saw the story about Arapahoe Dam on the news."

She stiffened. "What?"

"Two of the diagrams were of multistoried structures. But one of the plans was a dam: Z-l."

"Jesus."

"But the report on Arapahoe Dam was that no sabotage had been detected. Particularly no explosives. It could have been coincidental."

"And you did nothing?"

"I'm on the run. Was I supposed to go to Colorado and in vestigate a disaster that was probably natural?"

"You could have told someone, called-"

"Who? The CIA? If Arapahoe Dam was Z-l, then maybe the fact that I had had a look at those plans was the reason I was set up and sanctioned. FBI? Too chancy. They work pretty closely with the CIA these days." He met her gaze. "I decided to preserve my neck. I'm not one of your heroes. I'd spent years doing the dirtiest job on earth to form some sort of barrier between my country and the ugliness out there. All I got for it was a stab in the back. I opted out. If you don't like it, too bad."

"You can't opt out. That doesn't solve anything."

"It solved the question of whether I lived or died."

"Past tense. Does that mean you're not opting out any longer?" "The question is moot. I've been sucked into this and I've got to act or be pulled under." She made a rude noise.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't try to give me that guff. You've had choices all along and you know it. You took the job Logan offered because you wanted to find out if Z-l and Arapahoe Dam were the same. You just don't want to admit it to me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Perhaps you're afraid I'll think you're not as cynical as you claim you are. Don't worry. I'm not about to make that mistake. Everyone has a right to one lapse."

His lips twitched. "I'm glad I haven't ruined my reputation.

You'll tell me if you believe I'm pretending to be heroic like all those role models you grew up with?"

She found herself smiling back at him. "You can bet on it." He looked warm and approachable, and she suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him. She glanced away hurriedly. "How long do we have to stay here?"

"It probably won't be for more than a few days. Safe houses don't stay safe for long when there's a massive search. I'd like to stay here until we get a report from Galen on Fairfax. He's going to send a man down there to see what he can find out. When we move, I'd like to have someplace to go and a reason to go there."

"And you think that will take only a few days?"

"It better not take much longer. We're running out of time."

Panic rippled through her. She had never felt this hunted before. Even that time in Iran, when she had been on the run, there had never been this sense of overwhelming odds weighing in against her.

"It's going to be okay." Morgan's gaze was fixed on her face. "It's a big country. It's much easier to get lost in a country this size. And people aren't as suspicious. They're like you. They want to believe that everyone is good."

"And you think that's naive."

"Yes, but I also find it heartwarming." He smiled. "And we've already established how cold I am." His stare was suddenly intent. "I need all the warming I can get."

She couldn't look away. He wasn't cold. She could feel heat move through her as- She tore her gaze away. What had they been talking about? "It's not naive to want to see the best in people." She moistened her lips. "What are we going to do until Galen contacts us?" Shit, she wished she could take the question back. Stupid. Stupid.

But he didn't respond with a double entendre as she'd thought he might. "Suppose you let me try to see the best in you." "What?"

"I said I wouldn't draw you unless you gave me permission."

"You're not going to get it. I hate sitting still."

"Then don't. But you're still weak enough to let me have time to occasionally catch you at rest. You give me my time and I'll take you with me when I go scouting every day. That should allay the boredom for both of us."

"Aren't you afraid I won't keep up?"

"Maybe. But then I'll just have to slow down. Because I won't leave you here alone."

"Give me back my gun."

"It's in my duffel. Get it whenever you like. But what good would your gun have been against that rocket Jurgens lobbed into the lodge? Our best bet is guerrilla warfare if they find we're here."

"Not run and hide?"

"Run, stop, strike, run. Doesn't that suit you better?"

She was about to tell him no and then decided he was right. "If it's the only way to survive. I don't want to be caught like a rat in a trap. It's not fair."

"What is?"

"But this arrangement's a little lopsided. If you draw me, I want a favor from you."

He shook his head. "No photographs."

"I wouldn't even try. You're not that pretty."

"J esus, I hope not."

But a face that held that many secrets would be fascinating to try to capture. "I'd probably end up with a photo that resembled a stone wall. No, you once told me that if I got away from you that you'd track me, that you were good at it. Well, I want you to teach me how to do that."

"Why?"

"I've been in a couple situations where it would have come in handy. I'm not a complete novice. My dad took me hunting from the time I was a little girl. I'm pretty woods savvy."

"But why tracking?"

"I remember a few years ago in Turkey there was a child who wandered away from the village when I was photographing her parents. It took us four days to find her. She was dead. She'd fallen down a slope into a river. If we'd been able to find her sooner, it might not have happened."

"I should have known. Another way to save the world." "No, just a three-year-old little girl. Deal?"

"You can't grasp much in a few days. I had an Apache teacher who devoted months to teaching me, and it still took-" "I'll learn what I can learn. It might help. Deal?"

He smiled. "Deal."

"Then I'm going to bed." She turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning." "Good idea. You've had a big day."

"A terrible day."

"I wish I could tell you that the worst is behind you. I won't do that." No, he'd offered her comfort, but not at the expense ofhon esty. "I didn't ask you to. Good night." She didn't turn on the light in the bedroom as she took off her pants. The shirt was too much trouble with her bad shoulder and she was too tired to bother. She just pulled the cover over her and plumped up the pillow.

It had been a terrible, frightening day, as she'd told Morgan. A day of terror and revelation and a wild mixture of emotion. A day that had drawn her closer to Morgan than she was comfortable with.

She shouldn't be that surprised. In life-threatening situations, sexuality often raised its head. She had experienced it once before with a young doctor on the flooded plains of Bangladesh. It had vanished as quickly as the danger.

But it hadn't been this strong.

It didn't matter. She could handle it. And Morgan was clearly not going to pursue that intimacy. Jesus, she was actually disappointed, she realized in disgust. All she needed was to jump into bed with a man like Morgan.

Except there was no other man like Morgan. She had never met anyone this complex, and the more she learned about him, the fewer weapons she had against him. His ways were not her ways, but it was difficult to condemn a man who-

Stop thinking about him. If she had to stay awake, think of something that would help her get out of this predicament.

Z-l. No, the picture was bigger now. Bigger and more bewildering. If Z-l was Arapahoe Dam and that target had been destroyed…

Wouldn't Z-2 be next?

"What's the progress on Z-2?" Betworth asked. "You haven't got much time, Powers."

"No problem. We'll meet the deadline."

"But with what kind of success?"

"I think you should know that I'll follow through. The only reason there's been any delay is that you told me to go after Graham."

"But that's not an excuse now. I gave that assignment to

Jurgens."

"And he hasn't been too successful, has he?"

"He'll get her. You concentrate on Z-2." He hung up and leaned back in his chair. Keep calm. Everything would go as planned. He was handling all the details with his usual skill. Jurgens would find Graham and Morgan and take them out. Everything would be

His phone rang.

"I can't find him, Betworth." Runne.

"For God's sake, why haven't you returned my calls?"

"I need to find him. I've run out of leads. You get me one." He drew a deep breath. No excuses. The arrogant, fanatical bastard was giving him orders. "Perhaps if you'd returned my calls, I could have given you some assistance."

"Can you?"

He wanted to hang up on him. That would be a mistake.

Runne was a wild card, but Betworth had plans for him. Besides, he might be the one who could bring in Morgan. "He was in Colorado a few days ago. He might still be there, but I doubt it. Wherever he is, he's with a woman, Alex

Graham."

"You're sure?" "Oh, yes."

"Can you send me a photo of her?"

"I don't have to. Pick up a newspaper. Don't you ever read a newspaper or watch television?"

"No."

"Well, she's very hot. So it won't do any good to give you addresses or phone numbers."

"Then what good is she to me?"

"It's pretty obvious Morgan isn't going to abandon her, so that makes her an albatross. She'll slow him down. He doesn't have to slow down much for you to catch him, does he?" "No, but fax me the information anyway. I'll call you back and give you the fax number in the town I'm in. I might be able to go through her people to locate her."

"I told you, everyone's searching for her."

"That doesn't make any difference. They'll stop, they'll hesitate, they'll wonder if they'll get caught if they go too far. I have the advantage. I don't care." He hung up.

"Okay." Judd gazed out over the mountains. "I'll give you fifteen minutes' head start. You take off and hide from me. Get going." "You're tracking me?" Alex said. "How am I going to learn anything?" "You make the trail and then we go back over it and see what you did wrong."

"What I did wrong?"

"Sorry, wrong phrase. I'm used to hunting prey who don't want to be found. But it's the only way I know how to teach you. Take it or leave it." "I'll take it." She took off running down the slope.

"Found." Judd pulled Alex out of the brush. "You must be getting tired. You were really clumsy that time."

"Thanks." She grimaced. "That's the third time. I'm getting depressed. If it's that easy to track someone, why couldn't we find that little girl?"

"It's not easy. It takes practice. There are all kinds of things that obscure signs. She might have wandered in the shallow part of the river for a while. Rain could have washed the signs away. Children don't weigh much, and her feet probably made little impression in the grass. If she walked for a long time in the mud, she might have picked up enough of it on her shoes to form a pillow of mud. That makes it almost impossible to identify a human footstep except by the stride. A large animal might have walked over her prints and destroyed them. Or maybe you were at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"What does that mean?"

"The angle of light." He studied her face. "You're tired.

We'll go over your mistakes and then go back to the house." He turned away and moved up the slope. "You dislodged rocks over there." He pointed. "You flattened ground cover when you first started down this hill, and the color is a little different." He pointed again. "You broke the stem of that plant when you went into the bushes." He knelt down. "And here's a clear footprint."

"It doesn't look clear to me."

"See the curve where your toe pushed into the ground?" She nodded. "It's like learning a foreign language."

"Your eyes just have to train themselves to see the signs. There are four indicators to watch out for. Flattening, when dirt, rocks, or twigs are pressed into the ground by the weight of a foot. Regularity, which is an effect caused by straight lines or geometric shapes or anything not generally found in nature. Color change, which is a difference in color or texture from the area that surrounds it. Disturbance, which is a recent change or rearrangement." He moved ahead of her. "Come on, we'll go to the first place you hid and we'll go over the signs there."

She hurried to keep up with him. "I might as well have left a sign pointing to where I was." "Well, yes. But I didn't have to look at the ground when I got near those shrubs."

"Why not?"

"I smelled you."

She missed a step. "What?"

"Deodorants, toothpastes, shampoos are the scents of civilization. But nature gives everyone their own individual scents."

"You're saying I stink?"

He looked at her. "No, you smell intensely female. It couldn't be more enticing." She glanced quickly away from him. "Or identifiable, evi dently."

"I'd know you in the dark."

She inhaled sharply and searched wildly for something to say. "And did your Apache friend educate your nose as well as your eyes?"

"No, it's a talent. I just had to refine it."

"Sarah's dog, Monty, has a wonderful nose."

He started to laugh. "You're comparing me to a dog?" The tension was gone, she realized with relief. "Well, he's an exceptional dog." "Then I guess I'll have to accept that as a compliment." He knelt down and pointed to a spot some forty yards away. "Here's where I first picked up your trail. Do you see the shine?" She squatted down beside him. "Yes, how did I do that?"

"Your footprints pressed into dirt particles, which formed a reflective surface. But you can only see them in an oblique light angle."

"As shine."

"But you might miss them if you were right on top. That's why distance is good."

"Well, you're definitely an expert on distance."

"I'm not bad on top either."

She didn't make the mistake of looking at him this time. She quickly rose to her feet. "Let's go. I can't wait to see what else I did wrong."

"You're pretty incredible out there." She stared into the fire as she slowly sipped her hot chocolate. "How did you meet this Indian who taught you to track?"

"The Army sent me to him. It was part of my training." His pencil moved swiftly over the sketch pad. "You never know when you're going to have to seek out and find. Actually, it took me longer than it should have to become proficient. At first, I didn't like hunting. I had to learn to block out the thought of the final kill and concentrate on the chase itself. You know, you look really good in the firelight…"

"You'd better draw fast. This heat is making me sleepy." "Just a little while longer… You said you went hunting with your father. That surprises me. I can't see you with a rifle." "We didn't take rifles. My father didn't like shooting animals. We took cameras."

"Now I understand. Much more in character."

"Do most people in your profession have problems learning to"-she searched for a word-"hunt?" "Kill. Say it." His gaze remained on the sketch. "Some do, some don't. Occasionally, you find someone who loves it. Loves the hunt. Loves the kill."

"Not you?"

"No."

"But you've known someone who does?"

He nodded. "And for a short while he infected me with his enthusiasm."

"Was he as good as you?"

"No, but he came close." He put the sketch pad on the end table beside him. "Go on to bed. I've captured the essence. I'll fill in the rest tomorrow."

He didn't want to answer any more questions. Well, she probably shouldn't ask any more. She wasn't sure whether those moments in the cold mountains or these last hours beside the blazing fire were the most intimate.

She rose to her feet. "You may have the best part of our deal. I have a hunch I'm not going to be very good at this tracking business."

"You'll be good. You have good eyes. You're smart and you learn fast. Tomorrow you'll remember everything I've said and it will be harder for me to find you."

"Until you get close enough to smell me. I'm still not sure I like that idea."

He smiled. "The teacher has to have some perks. Then the day after tomorrow I'll let you take me back over your trail and tell me how I tracked you."

"That soon?"

"Like I said, you have good eyes."

So did he. Ice blue, and yet right now they didn't look cold at all… "Good night." She moved toward the bedroom. "I'll try to give you a little more of a challenge tomorrow." "Don't try too hard. Believe me, you're a constant chal lenge, Alex."

Where was Morgan?

Alex stamped to keep the circulation going in her feet. It had turned colder in the last hour and she was ready to go back to the ranch. It had snowed during the night, and Morgan had called off her tracking lesson because the snow would hide the signs beneath its white blanket. She was surprised how disappointed she'd been when he handed her camera to her and then left her on the hillside. She felt… abandoned.

God, how pathetic. Forget the cold. Forget Morgan.

She lifted the camera and focused on the tops of the Tetons, now wreathed in a cloudy mist.

"Are you ready?"

She whirled to find Morgan behind her. She should have been able to hear him on the ice-crusted snow, but she hadn't. "Where were you?"

He gestured to the tree-dotted hill to the south. "I needed to stretch myself."

"And I was keeping you back."

"Yes." He went past her down the slope that led to the ranch. "But you've kept up damn well the last couple days, considering your injury. I ran you hard." "Considering my injury? How patronizing." She smiled. "Even if it's true. Give me a couple weeks and I'll meet your pace."

"We don't have a couple weeks."

"I know that." She had spoken without thinking. The last few days had been amazingly tranquil. It was as if they were caught in a time warp. Maybe it was being surrounded by all this beauty and serenity. Or maybe it was that she wanted to run away from all the turmoil her life had become. "Galen's not coming through for us, is he?"

"It'll happen. I told you, he said Ralph Scott was on his way to Texas yesterday. He gave him copies of the sketches of the two men at the dam. Galen should hear something from him by tonight."

"Do you know anything about Scott?"

"Only that Galen chose him. That's enough for me." He glanced at her. "But I'm not going to sit on my ass and hope everything's going to break if we don't hear from him. We've been here too long already."

"I didn't think you would. You don't impress me as a pa tient man. I'm surprised you haven't been more restless." "Oh, I've been restless." He looked away from her. "And very impatient." Dammit. She felt a wave of heat move through her. It wasn't the first remark he'd made that she recognized as boldly sexual. The sexual tension had been there, ebbing and flowing, ignored but always present.

Morgan wasn't ignoring it now. He wanted her to know, to bring it out in the open. "It's okay." Morgan's gaze was once more on her face. "Don't panic. I'm not going to jump you. It's just… I need it. And I think you do too." "You don't always take what you need."

"I do. These days I live every day as if it were my last. You never can tell." "No, I guess you can't." She moistened her lips. "But that isn't how I want to live my life. It's a gift and I intend to cherish it."

"Cherish it. I'm not into making memories. Just come to bed with me. You'll like it, I'll like it, and that will be the end of it. You won't find me hanging on when you walk away." He climbed the porch steps and unlocked the door. "That's all I wanted to say. What do you want for supper?"

"What?"

He smiled. "Food isn't nearly as satisfying as sex, but it is a necessity. What about an omelette? I'll cook it, but you have to chop up the onions. They make my eyes tear in a most unmanly fashion."

He was backing away as he always had during the last few days, but it was too late. The words were said, and she wouldn't be able to forget them. He probably didn't want her to forget them. He wanted her to think, to envision them in bed together.

And she would, blast him.

She drew a deep breath and went past him into the house.

"You have to chop onions under cold tap water. I'll show you." He followed her and hung up his coat in the closet. "Al ways glad to profit from someone with experience. Teach me." "I don't think you need anyone to teach you anything."

"Then share the experience." He headed for the kitchen.

"That's always more fun anyway."

Morgan's phone rang when he was breaking the eggs for the omelette.

"Scott just called," Galen said. "He struck pay dirt at the hotel in Fairfax. The desk clerk recognized both men in the sketches. The shooter is Thomas Powers and the other man is Calvin Decker."

"He's certain?"

"About eighteen months ago Powers and Decker were in and out of town almost every week for an extended period. They told everyone they were designers for the textile company. The townspeople doubted that was true, but the money was good so they turned a blind eye."

"They thought they were into drugs?"

"There were all kinds of stories about what was going on at the plant. Fairfax is very close to the border. Drug running is rampant in South Texas,"

"Had the clerk seen Powers any time lately?" "Negative," Galen said. "But the last two weeks of his stay, he paid for the room rent by credit card. Scott bribed the clerk to look up the records and give him the credit-card number. I'm checking it out now. Scott's going out to the plant tonight to look around."

"There's a hell of a lot of security there."

"Not anymore. The plant closed down six months ago. It's deserted except for a night watchman. Scott said he'd call me from the plant."

"Call me when you hear from him."

"I'll do that. How's Alex? Putting up with you?"

"Barely. I've got to hang up. I'm making an omelette."

"You?"

Morgan looked at Alex. "I'm discovering all manner of skills and qualities I never knew existed. Let me know as soon as you do." He hung up. "The shooter's name is Thomas Powers. The other man is Calvin Decker. Galen is checking out one of Powers's credit-card receipts right now."

Alex's expression lit with excitement. "Hot dog." Then she frowned. "It could be an alias. It probably is."

"Or it might not be. Anyway, it's a lead."

"Yes, it is. At last something's going our way. I was getting discouraged."

"I'm still discouraged."

She tensed. "Why?"

He smiled. "You haven't chopped those onions for me. I'm afraid you're going to make me do it."

"I'll make coffee, you turn on the television," Morgan said after supper. "We need to see what the opposition is up to."

"I can hardly wait." She went into the living room and flipped on the television set. "Just what I need for indigestion." She glanced up when Morgan came into the room carrying a tray with coffee cups and a carafe. "They're still searching Colorado for us. They're having trouble identifying the helicopter because the numbers on the aircraft were phony."

He poured her coffee. "Imagine that. Anything else?" "Not about us. There's been another embassy bombing.

This time it was in Quito. Same MO as the last one in Mexico City. The Matanza terrorist group. Same threats to President

Andreas." She shook her head wearily. "Won't it ever stop? I used to feel so safe, and now I'm looking over my shoulder all the time. Hell, I wonder how Andreas feels. His neck is on the line twenty-four/seven."

"He's got a tough job." Judd sat down opposite her. "But he can handle it. I'd bet he's got guts to spare."

"I remember you said you liked him."

"I think he's honest. That elevates any politician to automatic sainthood." He took a swallow of his coffee. "We may have to have Logan try to get to him. I don't know who else we can trust."

Her eyes widened. "The President?"

"Galen says Logan has some pull with him these days." She shook her head. "Without evidence we wouldn't have a shot." "You may be right." He took the remote from her and turned off the TV. "That's enough news. You're getting depressed. Lean back in the chair. I'll get my sketchbook." "Lord, you must have dozens of sketches of me now."

"I like your face." He sat back down and started to sketch.

"It's a very special face."

"You like wimps?"

"That's what you saw, not what I drew." He stopped sketching and looked at her. "Why are you so afraid that I see you as a weakling?" "I'm not. You just drew me as-" She was silent a moment. "I suppose I'm afraid that deep down I'm like that. I try not to be. But what if-"

"Bull."

"A person never knows how they're going to react. I fell apart once. I could again."

"The World Trade Center?"

"I was helpless. There was nothing I could do. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere. I went to the hospitals. I posted his picture everywhere." She could feel the tears sting her eyes. "I couldn't find him. No one has ever found him. I wailed and sobbed like a madwoman." She swallowed. "Yes, I'm afraid of being that helpless again. I won't be that helpless."

"So you overcompensate."

"The hell I do." She cleared her throat. "And you'd better not have made me look like that woman I was all that time ago. You had some excuse after I was injured, but not now." "Would you like to see this one?"

"You're damn right."

She watched him come toward her. She shouldn't have confided in Morgan. She didn't feel more vulnerable, but she felt closer to him. Heaven knew, she didn't need to feel closer to Morgan.

He knelt beside her and put the sketch on her lap. "Alex." And Alex was the name scrawled at the top of the sketch. Strength. Alertness. Intelligence. Radiance.

She couldn't speak for a moment. "I'm… overwhelmed." "Good."

"Is that how I look to you?"

He grinned. "Hell, no. It's just a ploy to get you into bed. I use it on all the babes." His smile faded. "You know me well enough to know that I'll be honest with you. Even if I weren't honest with you, I'd be honest with the work. The work always has to be honest and clean and true." His fingers lightly traced the line of her cheek. "It was no problem with you. I had it all right in front of me."

She couldn't breathe. His fingers were warm and whisperlight, but it was as if she felt that touch in every nerve of her body. His face… hard, totally focused, intent.

She slowly lifted her fingers and touched his lips.

He went still. Then he moved his head so that his lips were pressed to her palm.

She went rigid. Heat. Jesus, her whole body was ready. She shuddered as his tongue touched her palm. Then it was gone. He was gone as he rose to his feet. "No."

She watched him in bewilderment as he backed away from her. What did he mean, no? She was so hot she was about to melt into a puddle.

"Not fair. You were breaking apart from talking about your father and then I threw the damn sketch at you." His lips twisted. "And I did it on purpose. I was hard and hurting. I wanted you and it was a way to get you."

"What?"

"Manipulation. Only I forgot I wasn't dealing in that particular commodity anymore." He moved toward his bedroom. "You want me, you come and get me."

She sat there, dazed, as the door slammed behind him. What the hell? She felt as if she'd fallen into the center of a volcano, only to have it turn to ice. No, not ice. She was shocked, but she was still as sexually aroused as the moment he'd first touched her.

It had been totally unprincipled of him to try to manipulate her. Just what she'd expect of a man of his background.

But that was a generalization, and you couldn't generalize with Morgan. He was a law unto himself. Who knew what he'd do next?

You want me, you come and get me. Damn him.

She got to her feet, strode toward his bedroom, and threw open the door. He was standing in the middle of the room, unbuttoning his shirt.

"Am I supposed to appreciate having to make the moves? Well, I don't. It's damn difficult." She drew a deep breath. "I want you. I've come to get you. Now, dammit, it's in your court. I want a little seduction."

"You're sure?"

She crossed the space between them and laid her head against his chest. His skin was smooth, warm, except for a thatch of springy hair. She rubbed her cheek against him and felt the muscles of his stomach clench as a shudder went through his body. "I don't want to be saved from you. I can save myself."

"You're not doing a very good job."

"Didn't you say live every moment as though it was my last?" "But you don't agree with that philosophy."

"Tonight I do." Her voice was uneven. "It will take forever to get my shirt off with this blasted shoulder. Will you stop standing there and help me, dammit?"

His hands slowly closed on her shoulders. "Oh, yes. I'll help you. Any way, every way. Just tell me…"

"Did I hurt you?" She chuckled. "Which time? Isn't it a little late to worry about damaging me?"

"No. Did I hurt you?"

She pretended to solemnly consider the question. "I think I felt a twinge in my shoulder the third time, but it went away quickly. Or maybe I was just distracted." Her teeth sank playfully into his shoulder. "Gee, did I hurt you?"

"No, you aroused me. Want to go again?"

"Soon." She nestled closer. "Lord, you have stamina. I need a little break."

"Okay." He sat up in bed. "I'll go get my sketch pad." "Don't you dare." She jerked him back down. "I'm not about to pose nude." "Just your face," he whispered. He kissed her. "I want to remember your face like this. You… glow." She swallowed to ease the sudden tightness of her throat. "Yeah, sure, and someday when I least expect it, I'll find myself in a gallery window." "No. If I did a nude of you it would be just for me. I'm feeling very possessive." He kissed the hollow of her throat. "Just your face…" "Maybe later." She pulled his head down to her breasts.

"Suddenly, I'm not feeling tired anymore…"