Chapter 28
Morgan leaned her head against the cool glass of the Jeep window.
The streets of Denver were long gone. The highway was mostly empty heading toward the foothills. The fall colors were vibrant, leaves drifting to the ground in a patchwork carpet over the grass, but they only highlighted how empty Morgan was inside. How lost.
She sucked in a breath, held it.
A warm hand covered hers. She didn't look at Vin. She couldn't.
Vin didn't say anything, but kept his hand on hers. A small amount of security in the mess Morgan had made of everything.
The past days of adrenaline and drugs coursing through her veins taking their toll, and now the aftermath of everything collided. The hum of the tires with the warm presence of Vin near her was enough for Morgan to finally let her eyes close.
#
Vin looked over at Morgan, asleep in his passenger seat. Even in her sleep she looked like she was running. Her face was drawn, her fingers twitched, and occasionally she would mumble something he couldn't hear, but it clearly was her fighting against an invisible foe.
Vin eased his vehicle off the dirt road to a lesser maintained road, overgrown and little travelled. He stopped long enough to lock it into four wheel drive.
The climb into the mountains was familiar, but it never ceased to chase away the stresses of work for Vin.
He slowed for a particularly rough patch of dirt track, mindful of Morgan's head that would bump against the window with too much speed.
This piece of land had been the first thing he bought when he got out of the army. He had brought Nettie and Casey here—they had even had Thanksgiving here one year. All the men on his team had been out here, even Ezra. The thought of Ezra's look of horror at the generator that supplied the power and the outhouse a short walk from the cabin made Vin smiled. But Ezra had come back. It had become a place where all the men could get away from the ugliness they faced in their jobs.
But he had never brought a woman here. Not that there had been many women in Vin's life. But this cabin was like opening a part of himself to someone and that part wasn't something he had ever opened up to any woman. Until Morgan.
A half hour down the minimally maintained road and he was pulling up to the lakefront cabin.
He put his Jeep in park alongside the cabin and got out quietly. He could bring supplies in and get a fire going before waking Morgan.
He started a fire in the woodstove first, knowing it would take awhile for the fire to chase the chill from the cabin, especially with the breeze coming from the lake. It didn't take him long to unload the Jeep, turn on the propane powered fridge and stock it. He went out to his vehicle where Morgan was still passed out, exhaustion pulling heavily at her face.
Vin paused before opening the door. He looked at Morgan, wishing he knew how to help her. He knew what made her tick. Stubborn pride and fierce independence. She was a lot like Chris. But it also made her hold off anyone who might try to help.
Vin sighed heavily. He'd figure it out. He'd be here for Morgan until she saw he wasn't going anywhere, let her see how he really saw her.
Vin eased the passenger door open, Morgan shifted away from it and Vin was able to open it fully.
"Morgan," he said softly. "We're here."
Morgan blinked groggily, confusion then wariness crossing her face. When her eyes landed on Vin, he hoped to see some sort of look of trust, but her expression was guarded. She unfolded her frame from the Jeep and got out, her knee high boots and strip club outfit incongruous with the wilderness around them. She shivered slightly.
"It's warmer inside," Vin said. He brought her up the steps to the porch that ran the length of the front of the log cabin, opened the front door for her. He shut the door on the cool early morning air behind them. Morgan didn't look at her surroundings, looking done in.
"Come on," Vin said. "You can get some rest in here." He held the door to the bedroom open, but didn't go in with her.
Morgan moved dully, sinking onto the bed, unzipping her boots and dropping them next to the bed before pulling the covers over her.
Vin kept the door open a crack, but left her to sleep. He'd need to bring some more wood up from the woodshed. He'd definitely need to split some more logs. Then he could see about fixing lunch for Morgan if she was awake by then.
He went outside, taking in the gray dawn light over the lake, the wind rippling its surface. The colors of the aspen and birch vibrant even in the dim light. He took in a deep breath. Morgan was out of Denver. Away from Vegas. She was safe.
He let out the breath. Ran a hand through his hair and tried not to think about what they had left behind in Denver. Morgan was here now and he would do whatever he had to do to show her he wasn't going anywhere.
#
Buck slammed his way into the bullpen. He swung his head around, looking for Chris or Vin or Ezra. Any of the men who currently had his ire.
"Mornin', Buck," Nathan said evenly, a slight caution in his tone.
Buck turned on him. "Where's that no good, lyin', forked tongue, silver spittin' Southern turncoat?"
"Ezra?" Nathan asked. Buck figured it spoke volumes that Nathan knew exactly who his choice words described.
"Yeah, him," Buck said.
"Our teammate," Nathan said evenly, "hasn't been in yet this morning."
"Then Vin," Buck demanded.
"He's taking some time off," Chris said, coming to the doorway of his office.
Buck turned on him. He didn't have any reason to be angry at Larabee. Not like Ezra and Vin. But Chris was all tangled up in Morgan's mess and that was reason enough for Buck.
"And you just let him?" Buck asked, his voice raising. "You let him keep secrets from the entire team—put Morgan's safety in jeopardy—and then let him waltz off on a vacation?"
Chris held Buck's accusing glare and Buck knew he was treading dangerously close to crossing a line with his longtime friend.
"He's too close to this entire case. He needs to clear his head."
Buck snorted derisively. "Seems his head's plenty clear. Ain't got any brains in there he's been using."
Chris didn't argue, a shadow crossing his face. Buck took that for agreement.
"Is Ezra gonna go off on a little get away, too?" he asked. "Spend weeks seein' my sister in a strip club and not tell me, then go get a little R and R?"
"I have no intention of heading anywhere," Ezra said from behind Buck.
Buck whirled around. Ezra stood his ground, lifting his chin.
"Alright," Chris said, a referee calling a timeout. "Let's look at the information we got last night."
Buck wanted to tell Chris exactly what he thought about the information he had learned at the club last night, but Chris must have read his thoughts as soon as he opened his mouth.
"The gun information," Chris said sharply.
Buck snorted. Chris ignored him and went over to Ezra, asking him what he had learned.
Buck ignored whatever they were talking about. He strode out of the bullpen to the break room.
One of the tech guys—a scrawny little fellow who looked like he had never been in the field, not like JD—was in there getting a bottled water from the fridge. He looked like he was going to greet Buck, but then saw Buck's face and fumbled with his bottle, catching it before it slipped from his hands, and scurried from the room.
"Yeah, that's right. Run away from me," Buck muttered. "Go run off. Wouldn't want you to have to face me. Have to talk to me. Have to tell me what the hell's goin' on in your life. Tell me you got that job in that—that snake pit."
He opened the fridge, looked in it unseeing, slammed the door shut.
"What did that appliance do to you?" Josiah asked.
Buck shook his head.
"Rough night," Josiah commented idly, crossing to the coffeepot. He poured two mugs, handing one to Buck.
"More like a rough ten years," Buck muttered.
Josiah stayed silent, taking a sip of his coffee.
"You know my ma died when Morgan was 12," Buck said.
Josiah nodded.
Buck thought of 12 year old Morgan, already long legs and too pretty for her own good. The way she had clung to Buck in the hospital when their ma finally breathed her last. Then the way she had sat stiffly at the funeral, like she had vowed to never cry again. Never let anyone see her hurt. But she had still gripped Buck's hand the entire service, her hand trembling in his even as she clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead.
"I did what I could for her. What I thought would be best for her." What in the world had he been thinking? That a group of Vegas showgirls would be best for Morgan? But he had been a 22 year old with his own wild streak and the Navy waiting for him.
"You did right by her," Josiah said without hesitation. "Anyone can see that."
Buck snorted. Yeah. Anyone could look at her waitressing in a strip club run by arms dealers, dancing on Ezra's lap wearing next to nothing and see what a stellar job Buck had done guiding her.
"She takes care of herself. That much is obvious." Josiah set his mug down and didn't waver in his steady gaze.
Buck started shaking his head.
"She's the spittin' image of you," Chris' voice broke in.
Buck startled. He hadn't realized the man had come into the breakroom.
"She's spoilin' for a fight," Chris said. "But she fights for what's right."
Buck started shaking his head.
"She broke up with that fool she's been running around with," Chris interrupted any argument Buck may have made.
Buck stared hard at Chris, wanting to believe what he was saying.
"Had to pick her up from jail for how she did it, but she got her point across to him."
"She—jail?" Buck asked. Then shook his head. Chris had picked her up from jail. She wasn't there now. He didn't want to know details. Unless…
"That little leach ain't dead, is he?"
Chris' lips curved slightly. "Just a shiner on his eye. His car's seen better days, too."
That brought the first smile Buck had felt since everything had fallen apart at the club the night before. "She did that?" he asked.
Chris nodded.
"Well then." Buck's chest was warm with pride. "A black eye?" he asked, his grin stretching.
"Probably swollen shut by this morning," Chris confirmed.
Buck's smile grew. Maybe the day wasn't so miserable after all. "You may be right, Josiah," Buck said. He picked up his coffee, took a drink, even the break room brew tasting good. "I didn't do such a bad job with her. She does take care of herself."
"Sounds like it," Josiah commented.
"We should get back to work. Get that filthy club shut down." Buck started toward the break room door. Maybe he'd even try to smoothe things over with Ezra. Apologize for lashing out at him. Surely if Morgan had seen the light about that pathetic little snake she was dating, it was only a short matter of time before she had her life straightened out.
#
Morgan rolled over. She pulled the pillow over with her and used it to block out the light coming in the window.
She listened and didn't hear anything that sounded familiar. It was quiet. The sound of someone—chopping?—in the distance the only sound that broke through the stillness.
She had woken up in so many different beds, on different couches, over the last few months she wasn't alarmed. The bed in Buck's room he had turned over to her, Cobra's couch, Vin's bed in his apartment, Chris' couch…
She shoved at the pillow to move it from her face and looked around.
Pine walls, absent of any frills. A window with plain curtains. A rag rug next to the bed. She pushed up to sitting, goose bumps pricking at her skin when she lost the warmth of the blankets.
She was at Vin's cabin. He had taken her away from Denver. Away from everything.
Morgan closed her eyes against the memories of the last several days. The last weeks. Months.
The steady chopping kept sounding.
Morgan left the bed, noticing a duffel bag sitting near the bedroom door. She went to the window and looked out.
The sun was high overhead, a brilliant blue sky stretching out without a cloud over trees bright with fall color.
There wasn't the sign of any other home or cabin, just the wilderness of mountain woods.
Morgan went to the duffel and unzipped it. A sweatshirt was on top. She pulled it on. It smelled like Vin. Like the outdoors and stability. She tried to ignore that as she rifled through until she found a pair of wool socks and pulled them on.
She ventured out of the bedroom, finding a single room that was living room and kitchen in one. The appliances were old, but clean. No pictures on the walls, just windows looking out to mountains on one side and crystalline lake on the other.
Morgan pushed open the front door, stepping out onto a porch and the lake shining in the bright afternoon sun.
She stood still, feeling the breeze off the lake pulling at her hair. Closing her eyes and listening to the sound of an axe thudding that meant Vin was nearby. Just Vin and no one else.
She drew in a long breath and let it out. Her chest was still tight, but she didn't feel like her skin was crawling.
She opened her eyes and went to the side of the porch, where the sound was coming from.
Vin was there.
Morgan watched him raise the axe overhead and bring it directly down on the log in front of him, splitting it in two. He moved those pieces and set another log in place.
Morgan watched his shoulders move under his flannel shirt, strength evident in every move.
Another hit and he moved those pieces again. This time when he reached for another log, he caught sight of her and put it down, straightening.
He didn't say anything, just set his axe aside and watched her.
Morgan opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but the words caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say to Vin. What to say after he had stayed with her while she was strung out, after she had left him to go to Cobra's.
"I got arrested last night," she finally said.
A slight lift of his eyebrows was Vin's only response.
"Chris got me out. That's why I was in his office," she said.
"Are you in trouble?" Vin asked.
Morgan shook her head. "They're dropping the charges."
Vin nodded and didn't press for any details. "Are you hungry?" he asked instead.
Morgan shrugged. Her stomach had been tied in knots for so long she wasn't sure when she had last been hungry.
Vin stowed the axe in a small shed and came up onto the porch. "I didn't bring nothin' fancy. Thought it'd just be me up here. But I got sandwich fixin's."
Morgan followed him inside. The warmth of being near Vin was equal to the heat coming from the woodstove.
Vin started setting out ham and lettuce, tomatoes and mustard, a loaf of bread. Morgan found a knife and cutting board and started slicing the tomato and lettuce, assembling the sandwiches as Vin got a bag of potato chips from one of the plain wooden cabinets.
Vin got down a couple plates and worked alongside her like he didn't have any memories of what Morgan had put him through. But she knew he remembered. She couldn't stop thinking about it.
She pushed her plate aside. "Last night—"
Vin cut her off. "You were goin' through a lot." There was no censure in his expression, but he clearly wasn't saying anything lightly. He turned so he was facing her directly. Morgan couldn't bring herself to turn towards him. "What happened last night is what I want, Morgan. I want you. But not like that. Not because you're tryin' to prove something or scare me off, or punish Chris."
She deserved to have him say it so bluntly. She swallowed hard, steeled herself against the feelings that threatened to crack the wall she was desperately trying to keep in place. "You should be scared off. You should take off running. Not bring me here."
Vin's hand was warm over hers when he rested in on hers then lightly turned her hand over to hold her hand securely. "I ain't running. Not from you."
His hand pressed against hers with light pressure for the briefest moment. Morgan stared straight ahead, then finally forced herself to meet his eyes.
"You should," she said, lifting her chin silently. Challenging him to do the smart thing and run.
Vin lifted his other hand to brush gently along her jawline. His fingers caressed her cheek, then fell to her neck, resting against her skin. "I don't run," he said, his voice husky.
Morgan couldn't look away. She wanted to hold onto those words. Believe them and let them sink into all the raw places that had been hurt. It was terrifying.
Vin didn't push. He ran his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, squeezing her hand softly before releasing her.
Morgan struggled to get air, trying to breathe like everything Vin said wasn't something she wanted—needed—to believe.
"It'll get easier," Vin said. He picked up their plates and carried them to the small table. "I'll wait however long you need until you believe me." He pulled out one of the chairs for Morgan before taking another for himself. He picked up his sandwich. "You like fishing?" he asked.
#