Return of a Hero Read online

  Laura read the torture in his eyes. He was so close, so brazenly male, that she wanted to acquiesce to the burning desire she saw in his gaze. Frustration, like a knife, cut through her. Every fiber in her body screamed for more than just casual contact with him. She couldn’t forget the branding, heated kiss that had brought her own deep need to the boiling point. Just seeing the outline of his pursed mouth, remembering the strength and taste of him, made her pulse bound. There was so much they could share. Why wouldn’t he? What was he afraid of? “Let’s get back to bed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “There’s no sense in losing more sleep. Now that we’ve found out where Lenny Miles is, everything is going to speed up.”

  Gently releasing her from his grip, Morgan knew she was right. “Get some sleep, then, little swan.”

  She continued to stare up at the craggy features of his hard face. There was such tenderness in his eyes now. “Y-yes….”

  Turning, she padded back to bed, first closing the door quietly behind her. Laura leaned against it a moment, her knees feeling terribly shaky. “That man could melt steel with his look,” she muttered, shedding her robe. Much less melt her heart—her soul. Pulling the covers across her, she dropped her head to the pillow, wildly aware of her heart beating in her breast. “Steel,” she fumed. “He melts me every time we get around each other!” With that she turned on her stomach and buried her head in the pillow, hoping to escape her clamoring needs for Morgan.

  Chapter Nine

  “It’s here,” Laura said excitedly, watching as the courier van pulled into her driveway. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was five o’clock. She felt Morgan’s presence behind her. The day had dragged for both of them at their respective places of research.

  “The package is in your name,” Morgan told her. “I’ll stay out of sight.”

  Opening the door and exchanging brief courtesies with the driver, she signed for the hefty packet. Closing the door and turning, she handed it to Morgan. There was a new light burning in his dark-gray eyes.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen and see what Kit’s sent us,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, then chastising himself for the automatic response to Laura.

  Cherishing the unexpected contact with Morgan, Laura leaned against him for a brief moment before pulling away. She led him to the kitchen table. Sitting down, she couldn’t contain her excitement as he opened the package.

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed as he picked up a sheaf of copies. On top was a black-and-white photo of Lenny Miles. He snorted softly. “I wonder if I’ve changed as much as he has,” Morgan said, turning the photo around so Laura could see it.

  She studied it. “He looks like a mouse of sorts.” Miles’s face was triangular, his chin narrowing to a point. His eyes were small and dark, set closely together. The mouse image was emphasized by buck teeth that had never been corrected with braces. Laura almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “He looks like someone strung out on drugs, doesn’t he?” she murmured.

  “Yeah. Same face I remember, but with a lot more lines.” Morgan began to read the rap sheet on Miles. “He’s in New York City. No known address. Kit says on a note attached that he’s probably down on skid row, making one of the back alleys or a basement his home.”

  “That means we’ll have to put in a lot of footwork.”

  Morgan shot her a look. “There’s no ‘we’ to this, Laura. You aren’t going into that scummy rat hole looking for Miles. That’s my job.”

  “Hold on. You’re not leaving me behind on this. We’re partners. Everything we’ve done so far, we’ve done together, Morgan.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Baloney.”

  Morgan sat up. He was getting another taste of Laura’s stubborn nature. Only this time it was aimed directly at him. “You’re not a cop. And you’re not trained to deal with that kind of environment. I am.”

  Laura set her lips, her eyes blazing. “Morgan, I’m not staying behind! You may need me. I can be a second set of eyes and ears as we walk those alleys.”

  She was beautiful when she was angry. Morgan almost said it, but caught himself in time. Trying to keep his voice soothing, he said, “I’ve got eyes in the back of my head from six years in the Legion. Look, I’m going into an area where drug addicts and pimps make a living, Laura. They don’t care who they put a gun to or slip a knife between the ribs of, if they’re hunting for money. You’d be at risk, and I won’t have it.”

  Clenching her hand, Laura asked, “What if you get into trouble?”

  “I can handle it.”

  It was her turn to snort. “Give me a break! You’re a marine officer. You know the value of teamwork. No one does anything alone. Even recon marines, the elite of the corps, go in teams. Quit ignoring one of the basic rules of combat, Morgan! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m a liability.”

  There were silver flecks of ire in her eyes. He hadn’t counted on Laura using her military knowledge as a lever against his orders. “I said no.”

  “Damn you!” Laura got up and began pacing the kitchen. She glared at Morgan. “All those years in the Legion must have made you stupid,” she ranted.

  “Why you—” Morgan got up and stepped in front of her.

  Laura threw her hands on her hips, her chin jutting out at a defiant angle. “You’ve been alone so long, you’ve forgotten how to be a team member, Morgan Trayhern!” Jabbing a finger into his chest, she went on, “You forget, I was raised as a military brat. I’m extremely self-reliant and able to take care of myself. You can’t make me stay behind. I’m going whether you like it or not!”

  He almost wanted to strangle her by her long, beautiful neck. But another part of him wanted to love her, to tap into that beckoning fire that radiated from within her. His anger and pride melded with his desire for her. Gripping her by the shoulders, he gave her a little shake. “Dammit, you’re not going,” he rasped. He leaned down, his face inches from hers. “Did it ever occur to you that I like the hell out of you and don’t want to see you get hurt?”

  Tears flooded Laura’s eyes and she forced back the reaction. Morgan’s hands were branding on her shoulders. “I like you enough to go along whether you want me to or not!”

  Something snapped within Morgan. With a growl he brought Laura hard against him. Crushing his mouth to hers, he meant to subdue her. Instead her lips parted, allowing him entrance, and he tasted the sweetness of her depths. All his anger melted as her hungry response shattered his resolve. Her arms slid upward, moving against his neck. The feminine scent unique to her entered his flared nostrils, and he inhaled deeply, lost in his need of her. The world ceased to exist for him as she pressed against him. Laura was pure sunlight flooding his dark existence. Needing her, wanting to satisfy the sharpened ache in his lower body, he slid his hands roughly down and across her small shoulders, finding and fitting her breasts into his hands.

  A moan escaped him as her flesh became firm beneath his cupping motion. Fire, more violent and seething than he’d ever experienced, erupted deep within him. He could feel the tautness of her nipples beneath the fabric of her blouse. Laura was so warm, so willing….

  Just as suddenly Morgan realized what he was doing. He fought the drugging beauty of her mouth, now wet and inviting. It hurt to break contact with her sweet lips. Bare inches separated them, and Laura’s eyes were lustrous and dazed. Even more reason to keep her safe from harm, his mind screamed at him.

  “You’re such a little hellion when you want to be,” Morgan grated. Just holding her shoulders to reinforce what he said had a pleasurable effect upon him.

  Dizzied by the unexpected ferocity and primal need of Morgan’s kiss, Laura stammered breathlessly, “I’m going.”

  Her lips were pouty, beckoning. He could kiss them again. Laura was so close, and the ache intensified within him. All his anger backwashed. “Didn’t you hear me? I care for you, Laura….”

  “And trying to make me feel gu
ilty isn’t going to work, either, Morgan!” His male scent did nothing but increase her womanly awareness of him. There was an animal gleam in his narrowed eyes. He was the hunter and she was his quarry. Excitement thrummed through Laura as her attention wavered between their words and the heated looks they were trading. Laura didn’t want to argue. She wanted to make hungry, passionate love with Morgan. Her voice cracked. “I care for you, too! How can I stay here worrying for days or weeks about you? I couldn’t stand the nightmares I’d have of you stabbed in some dark alley.” Laura tore from his grasp, pleading with him. “There won’t be any police backup. You’ll be alone. I’m not about to let you walk into this mess without me at your side.”

  Hanging his head, Morgan felt Laura’s anguish. Even more, his senses cried out as she pulled from his grasp. He wanted to explore that bounding pulse at the spot where her graceful neck intersected with her small but proud shoulders. Giving himself a mental shake, Morgan tried to still his savage want of her. He knew what it was like to be alone. So damned alone. One look into her blue eyes, and he couldn’t tell her no. “It won’t be easy, Laura. I plan on being out on the street all day and part of the night.”

  A weakness stole through Laura. She gripped the back of the chair to steady herself. The naked look in Morgan’s eyes had stripped her, was making silent love with her. It was so hard to concentrate! Finally, struggling to sound coherent, Laura whispered, “I’ll wear sensible shoes, then.”

  An unwilling grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Who could ever believe there was such a spirited hawk beneath that guise of swan you wear?”

  Rubbing her arms because she was suddenly cold, Laura shrugged. “I care enough to be with you, Morgan.”

  “This isn’t going to be fun. And there will be danger.”

  She lifted her chin, holding his suddenly bleak look. All the fire had died in his eyes, leaving only embers of an unfulfilled promise between them. She felt his emptiness just as sharply as she felt her hunger for him. “Together we’re strong, Morgan.”

  With a sigh, he turned back to the table and sat down, making an attempt to concentrate. But how could he? Laura’s voice was like a caress. Her eyes promised him a velvet world of love anytime he wanted to take her into his arms. Rummaging through the rest of the background information on Lenny Miles, trying to get a grip on his turmoil of emotions, he rasped, “We’re going to have to be.”

  Even the grate in Morgan’s voice was like his hand brushing her sensitized skin. Everything in her responded to his dark tone. Laura closed her eyes, fighting off the wave of dizziness. “I’ll call the airlines and make reservations for a flight to New York tomorrow morning,” she answered, her voice wispy with barely contained emotion.

  Worried for her already, Morgan nodded, saying nothing. His mind and heart swung to Laura’s safety. Anything could and did happen in those alleys. There was roving street gangs, kids who wielded knives and guns as easily as he had in the Legion. Only they weren’t adults, just children. Rubbing his face tiredly, Morgan closed his eyes. His life took on new importance because of Laura. And there was no way in hell he was going to lose her. No way….

  The wind tugged at Laura’s overcoat, and she pulled the collar up, protecting her exposed neck. New York at nine o’clock on Monday morning was windy and cold. Eyes focused straight ahead, Morgan appeared impervious to the vicious wind that tore at his dark brown leather jacket, jeans and work boots. He looked like a construction worker. Or perhaps a grim soldier with a mission to accomplish.

  She was getting a taste of his other side now. The side that had survived Hill 164 and the Legion. There was no forgiveness in Morgan’s set features as his narrowed gray gaze roved down the street. Shivering, she hurried to keep up, feeling sympathy for the drunks who lay on the sidewalk. At each one Morgan would stop. If the person was conscious, he’d pull out a photocopied picture of Lenny Miles and ask if they knew him.

  An alley came into view. Morgan halted, searching the trash-scattered depths of the area. Spotting someone lying by a dumpster, he walked in that direction. All the time his senses were screamingly alive. The wind tugged at him, and he bowed his head slightly. Rain was coming, and soon, judging from the darkening clouds above the city.

  Leaning down, Morgan tapped the man in the soiled wool coat. “Hey, buddy, are you awake?”

  The man growled a curse, slowly unwrapping from a fetal position. He looked up, his eyes red and watery. “What you want?”

  Morgan pulled out the picture of Miles from his pocket. “I’m looking for someone.” He placed the picture in front of the bloodshot eyes of the drunk. “You ever seen this guy? His name is Lenny Miles.”

  The drunk rolled back over and curled up. “Get outa here. I ain’t seen ’im.”

  Straightening, Morgan perused the rest of the alley. It was empty. He glanced at Laura. The compassion on her face gripped his heart. Taking her by the arm, he turned her around and headed back out the alley.

  “You’re not going to make it,” he told her tightly.

  “I will, too!”

  “You’re ready to cry.”

  “So what?” Laura jerked out of his grip, glaring up at him. “Since when can’t I feel for these street people? It’s cold and windy out here. That old man didn’t have enough clothes on to keep him warm. He was shivering!”

  Morgan couldn’t stand the fact that he’d brought tears to her eyes. He and Laura had been pounding the pavement for almost two hours since their arrival. He’d gotten them two rooms at a hotel not far from skid row, and they had left shortly thereafter to begin the hunt.

  “Laura, you aren’t cut out for this,” he said patiently, walking back toward the street.

  “Who is?” Laura shot back, giving him an accusing stare. “You can’t tell me you enjoy this. Or that you don’t feel sorry for these people.”

  “We all have our personal hells to deal with,” he muttered.

  Laura choked in a breath. He was right: the sight of those destitute and helpless people was tearing her up. Somehow she was going to have to steel herself against their misery long enough to help Morgan. She saw the frustration and anger in his eyes.

  Morgan glanced up at the sky. “It’s going to start raining like hell in a minute.” He took in her pale face, her eyes that burned with stubbornness. “Sure you don’t want to go back to the hotel?”

  “No. As long as you’re out on the street, I’m staying with you.”

  “Okay, wingman, let’s get going.”

  She managed a one-cornered smile at his use of the term wingman. No fighter pilot flew without another fighter beside him. It was a protective measure. As they headed deeper into skid row, Laura began to see street gang members; two or three young men wearing the symbol of their gang on the backs of their jackets. There was a tension in Morgan, and suddenly Laura was grateful for his military training and abilities. This was no place for a woman alone.

  The rain began violently with huge drops exploding like minibombs all around them. Laura shielded her eyes with her hand. Morgan simply hunched more deeply into the jacket, pulling up the collar to protect the back of his neck. The streets began to clear.

  Halting at a basement tavern, Morgan pulled her close beside the ramshackle establishment to protect her from the storm. The paint was peeling off the front and the window was caked with grease and dirt. Frustration thrummed through him. Laura had no business being here! She was like a beautiful lily in the midst of a garbage pile. He tightened his fingers on her arm.

  “We’re going into this joint. Stick close.”

  Nodding, she followed on his heels as he opened the creaking door. Clouds of cigarette smoke and the odor of stale alcohol hit her sensitive nostrils. It took precious seconds for her eyes to adjust to the smoky gloom within the tavern. Laura pressed herself against Morgan’s back, feeling eyes upon her. There were men and women sitting at round wooden tables, talking in lowered voices. The pungent scent of unwashed bodies assailed her as sh
e moved forward with Morgan toward the bartender behind the counter.

  Morgan pulled out the photo, thrusting it under the heavyset bartender’s bulbous red nose. “I’m looking for this guy. His name is Lenny Miles. You seen him?”

  Scratching his balding head, the bartender took the photocopied picture and held it up to better light.

  Morgan felt Laura’s hand around his upper arm. She was frightened. Who wouldn’t be in a dive like this? The only people in there were drunks or drug addicts, judging from the blankness in their slack, sallow faces. He wanted to soothe her fears, but there was no way to do it. Gazing down the bar, he saw a thin-faced young man in his middle twenties watching them with interest. The man was dressed in a gray silk suit, out of place among the rags worn by the other patrons. He must be a pimp.

  “I dunno,” the bartender said, placing the photo on the counter. “Sure looks familiar…wha’dja say his name was?”

  Morgan divided his attention between the pimp looking Laura over and the bartender. “Lenny Miles. He’s a drunk and a drug addict.”

  Rubbing his nose, the bartender peered down at the picture. “Give me a minute, Mac. I mighta seen him, but I gotta remember.”

  “Take your time,” Morgan said. He stiffened inwardly as the pimp came strolling around the bar directly toward them.

  Laura’s eyes widened as the man in the suit walked up to her, grinning. She shrank back against Morgan, disgusted by the leer in the man’s dark brown eyes.

  “Nice filly ya got there, fella. But I gotta tell ya, this is my turf. Nobody does business in here without Rico’s permission.” He reached out to touch the blond hair lying against Laura’s shoulders.

  Morgan shot out his hand, capturing Rico’s arm in a viselike grip. “Back off, punk, or you’ll regret it,” he snarled.

  Laura uttered a little cry and stumbled backward, hitting a table. She straightened, her hand across her mouth. Rico’s thin face went livid as he glared up at Morgan.