Chapter 8

"Hey Chris," Buck said.

Chris took his eyes off the unfamiliar road leading into the small tourist town long enough to glance at Buck.

"You ever see that movie? The one where the girls drive off a cliff?"

"Thelma and Louise," Chris said.

"That's the one."

Buck was silent and Chris didn't have to ask where his thoughts were going.

"They wouldn't," Chris said before Buck could ask.

This time Buck looked at Chris.

"No way they'd drive the car off a cliff," Chris said.

"Maybe not on purpose," Buck argued.

Chris knew Buck was worried about Morgan. He had seen it himself, she wasn't herself. She hadn't been for awhile. But thinking about worst case scenarios wasn't going to help anyone. "Besides, Josiah said the car was burned. No one was in it."

"You sure they didn't find it at the bottom of a cliff?" Buck asked.

Chris didn't answer. He would focus on being thankful the girls had the minimum amount of sense that led them to take an older car that wouldn't cost a fortune to replace. At least he and Buck weren't going to end up paying off some rich kid's barbecued Camaro.

The town of Pine Cliff had a decorative sign welcoming them. Chris wondered briefly if the town council would have it removed by the time they got Sam and Morgan out of there. Assuming they were still in the quaint tourist town and hadn't hijacked another vehicle.

Chris drove past the small sheriff's office. "We don't find them, we go see if any other cars have been stolen."

Buck nodded, keeping his eyes on the sidewalks that lined the street, narrowing his eyes to look into the crowded shops that sold everything from t-shirts to fudge.

"You think they're sleeping it off?" Buck asked as they passed a bed and breakfast.

"It's a place to start," Chris said, speeding up slightly and heading toward the motels he could see on the far edge of town. And hopefully it would be the place their search ended.

#

The bed and breakfast room was decorated in dainty Victorian era furnishings, doilies on the dresser, a pastel floral shower curtain in the attached bathroom. But Morgan ignored that.

She looked at Vin, standing in the middle of the feminine room, looking out of place and uncertain.

Well she wasn't uncertain. Not about this. She was going to take control. Get control of her life back.

She crossed to him and some part of her liked that he didn't back away. He held his ground.

She put her hands on his chest, this time ready for the heat she felt under her palms.

The kiss back in the wedding chapel had surprised her. She had kissed him, intending to throw him off balance, to keep the upper hand. She hadn't expected to feel desire.

She was ready for it this time. But that didn't stop the jolt when her lips found his. She couldn't hold back her sharp intake of breath when his hands found her hips, his fingers light, but confident.

Morgan needed to keep her focus. She wasn't about to lose control.

She pushed Vin toward the bed, making sure she stepped back enough that he couldn't pull her down with him.

Vin took a seat on the bed, landing hard, but kept his balance. His blue eyes looked up at her. She liked how direct they were. She hated how concerned they were.

"You sure about this?" he asked. "Ain't like we know each other."

"And yet we're married," she said lightly, letting her mouth quirk slightly with the bizarre humor of the situation.

"We don't have to…" the guy she was married to said. "Not if you don't want—"

Morgan cut him off, finding his lips again, moving so her legs were on either side of him, pushing him down to lay back on the bed.

This time, his lips moved to her neck and Morgan couldn't hold back her gasp at the heat that flared through her. She let her eyes fall closed and moved her hands down his chest, across his abdomen.

She forgot why she was doing this, what she was trying to escape as the fervor started to take over. She gasped out his name.

Vin rolled over, on top of her. Morgan's eyes flew open, but she forced herself to keep her body from reacting to the anxiety that flared.

One of his hands lightly brushed her thigh over the fabric of her jeans, and Morgan tried to focus on that, rather than the claustrophobia that threatened with his frame over hers.

She managed to get a hand to the back of his neck, hoping he didn't notice it shaking. She mentally ordered herself to pull it together. She wasn't going to fall apart.

But then the memories came. Uninvited, unwanted. The fear. The pain. The loss of control.

"Hey….hey, what's wrong?"

Vin was propping himself up on one elbow, none of his weight on her, and Morgan shoved at his chest, needing him off her, unable to breathe.

Vin rolled the rest of the way away from her and Morgan scrambled desperately away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean—are you ok?"

Morgan fought to find her voice. She managed a nod of her head, trembling hands going to her hair to push it back from her face.

Vin sat silently on the other side of the bed, not pushing her.

Morgan rubbed her face, trying to scrub away the things she couldn't unsee, couldn't stop from taking over her mind, her emotions.

"It's not…it's not you," Morgan managed. She kept her eyes on the door of the room, reminding herself she wasn't trapped. Vin wasn't holding her down. He wasn't tearing at her clothes. He wasn't forcing her—

"Hey," he said again, in that same gentle way. Morgan didn't know if she was relieved or annoyed that it had the desired calming effect. "You don't have to tell me nothin'. It's all good."

"It's not!" Morgan snapped, finally looking at him.

He reared back slightly at her vehemence, but didn't move otherwise.

"It's not all good! It hasn't been, not since he—since he—" What was wrong with her that she couldn't even get the words out?

The room was silent, the only sound a couple of kids shouting happily down in the yard below their window.

"Did someone hurt you?" Vin finally asked.

Morgan pushed off the bed and stalked over to the opposite wall before facing him. "I don't like having someone on top of me," she bit off. "He held me down and he—he—"

Vin didn't look at her with disgust like she expected. His expression darkened slightly. "Someone forced himself on you?" he asked.

Morgan looked away. Her nails dug into her palms, reminding her of how she had tried to claw at her attacker. She quickly uncurled her hands, stretching her fingers out against the tightness.

Vin got up from the bed, moving slowly. He didn't come near her, but he kept his eyes on her. "I wouldn't do nothin' like that. Ever."

"I know," Morgan said. And she did know that. She knew instinctively that the guy standing on the other side of the bed from her was someone she could trust. She had already trusted him with something only Sam knew.

"We don't have to do anything," Vin was saying and Morgan's eyes flew to him. "I can get a different room, head back to Denver, whatever. But I ain't gonna make you—"

"You have to!" Morgan exclaimed. She stepped forward, her panic rising again. "We have to."

Vin looked completely confused. "What?"

Morgan felt her breath start to take over, short breaths, threatening the control she had already lost. "We have to do this. I can't—I don't want—" She shook her head in frustration trying to find the words to explain what she knew wouldn't make sense to anyone. Sam certainly hadn't understood her latching onto this idea of marrying a stranger. But it made perfect sense to Morgan.

"I have to—to be with you—sleep with you," she said, stumbling over the words as she feared he wouldn't understand and would think the worst of her. That she had somehow invited the attack, that she was easy.

"You don't have to," Vin said softly, the concern on his face growing.

"Yes, I do!" Morgan's words filled the room, her desperation suffocating. "I can't have the only time I was with a guy be that time. With that guy."

She pressed her lips together on the tail of her confession, waiting to see if Vin would respond.

"You think this will erase what happened?" Vin asked. And then she did see pity.

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing will erase what happened," she said bitterly. "But this will make it my choice now. What I do is my choice." She ground her teeth together, not sure if anything she was saying made any sense.

Vin studied her and Morgan didn't bother to hide the emotions. It was too much to reel back in now.

"And this is what you want to do?" he asked.

"It's what I need to do," she said through clenched teeth.

Vin took a cautious step toward her and Morgan lifted her jaw, daring him to see any more weakness in her. Through the concern that had never left his face, his mouth moved slightly in humor at her expression.

"I don't want to scare you," he said.

"You won't," she said, though she could see he doubted that based on what had just happened. "Just…don't make me feel trapped." She met his eyes and some of her confidence flagged. "Ok?"

Vin shook his head like he couldn't believe what he was agreeing to. But he took another step toward her. Then hesitated, and changed course so he was sitting on the bed again. "Ok."

Morgan took a breath and tried again. Tried to do the only thing she could think of to move past what had happened to her—what had been done to her.

She moved until she was within reach of Vin. She looked down at him, and he didn't move.

She looked him in the eye and read some sort of silent promise that made her heart twist. She steeled herself against the emotion. If she started to feel anything, it would give the feelings and emotions that she had locked away after the assault free rein to come flooding out and overwhelm her. She got control over the ache in her chest, shoving it down.

She reached down and took his hands, placing them on her hips, moving a step closer.

She didn't hesitate. She had set her course and she wasn't going to veer off it. She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. His fingers moved against her skin under the hem of her shirt.

She put her hands on his shoulders, pretending she didn't notice the strength of his muscles under her own fingertips.

"I promise I won't hurt you," Vin said quietly against her lips.

One of his hands reached up to brush at her cheek and Morgan resisted the urge to lean her face against his palm.

She believed him. So she threaded her hands through his hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss, letting herself feel the heat of passion for now.

#

Buck stormed out of another motel office. He was losing patience quickly. How in the hell were he and Chris supposed to find their sisters if no one would share their guest list without a warrant? He shoved down the thought that they were also looking for the two men their sisters had been with.

Buck closed his eyes and tilted his face skyward. Hopefully the girls had dropped the men off long before they reached this town and torched the car. He found himself hoping for the first time that it had been the girls that torched the car and not some hardened criminals his sister was with who had decided to burn evidence of some crime. The thought of anyone laying a hand on Morgan—or Sam—made his stomach turn, followed by a burning rage he had never imagined before.

"Let's go," Chris said.

"Where?" Buck asked, opening his eyes. Three motels and they had all refused to give them any information. And there were still another two they would get the same answer at if they asked.

"A lot of doors to knock on," Chris said, a grim set to his mouth. Buck knew Chris' thoughts were taking the same turn his were.

Glad to at least have a plan, and dreading what he may find behind any door, Buck headed after Chris as Chris pounded on the first door.

"Maintenance," Chris called through the closed door. "There's a gas leak, open up."

Buck had to give Chris credit for keeping a cool head in the face of whatever they were dealing with. He reined in his emotions, and his imagination, and set to work, pretending this was just a normal missing persons case. That he wasn't terrified that something had happened to Sam and Morgan.

#

"Sleep well?" Sam asked.

Ezra blinked bleary eyes up at her and then dragged a hand across his face. "What time is it?"

Sam glanced at the dated clock radio on the nightstand. "Almost noon."

Ezra grunted in acknowledgment and pushed up to sitting. He ran a hand through his hair and Sam bit back a smile at how bedraggled he looked. She was sure she didn't look much better.

"Did you sleep?" Ezra asked.

"Some," Sam answered, ignoring how restlessly she had dozed, unable to keep from worrying about Morgan off alone with some guy neither one of them knew.

Ezra yawned and rolled his neck as if trying to loosen tight muscles. "What are your intentions now?" he asked. "Food? Or are you wanting to find transportation back to Denver now?"

Sam reared back at the suggestion she would head back to Denver. "I'm not going anywhere without Morgan," she said.

"Of course," Ezra responded. He rubbed another hand over his face. "Then what do you suggest? Lunch?"

Sam shook her head. She'd never admit it, but her stomach was too tied up in knots with worry about Morgan to choke down any food. She saw Ezra watching her and got the uncomfortable feeling he understood.

Ezra looked away, scanning the room. His eyes landed on something and he lit up. He got up, his clothes looking even more wrinkled when he stood, and got the cellophane wrapped deck of cards off the table by the window.

"Poker?" he asked, holding up the complimentary pack, the motel's name and logo on the deck.

Anything to pass the time and take her mind of Morgan. Sam dug in her pocket and pulled out the cash she had.

Ezra grinned. He pulled out his own wallet and tossed it on the bed, pulling the wrapping off the deck of cards.

#