Eagle Warrior. Jenna KernanЧитать онлайн книгу.
lifted his chin from his hands. “Your father was a paid hitman. Now word is out about the payday, and that means you can expect more like that nitwit I found in your hallway.”
Morgan’s stomach heaved. She pressed a hand over her pounding heart.
“More.”
“More and more competent.”
“Competent?”
“Dangerous. The kind of men that don’t pull hair. And they won’t stop until you deliver that money.”
“What money? I don’t have it.”
“Well I suggest you find it fast. The trick will be to keep you safe in the meantime.”
She sat back in the chair. “How am I supposed to do that, exactly?”
“That’s where I come in.”
Morgan looked from Ray to Detective Bear Den.
“You need a bodyguard, Morgan. Someone tough, resourceful and capable of protecting you.”
Her gaze flicked back to Ray Strong.
“Ray has agreed to act as your bodyguard,” said Detective Bear Den.
He stood there watching her like a hungry wolf in his transparent T-shirt rippling with contained potency. He was just the sort of male to cause a woman all kinds of trouble.
“I can’t afford to put gas in my car,” Morgan said. “How am I going to pay for...” She let her traitorous eyes caress him and his mouth twitched. His eyes glittered as if he knew what she was thinking. “I couldn’t afford to even feed him let alone pay him.”
“You can’t afford not to,” said Bear Den.
Morgan regarded Ray Strong. The man was tough, powerful and had already shown himself capable of protecting her and Lisa. He also ignited in Morgan an unwelcome burst of lust coupled with a rational sense of fear. The man was dangerous and the threat he posed was more than physical.
She shook her head. “This is a bad idea.”
Bear Den spoke again, his voice deep and resonant. “Are you familiar with the Turquoise Guardians?”
“My dad’s medicine society? Sure.”
“There is a sect within that organization called Tribal Thunder. This is a warrior band.”
Morgan didn’t think they still had warriors, not the real kind that defended their families to the death, made war on their enemies and took what they liked. She found her gaze slipping back to Ray like a thief on a night raid.
“I don’t know of Tribal Thunder.”
“Ray is a member of that sect. So am I. We’ve sworn an oath to defend our tribe.”
Now Ray took up the conversation. His voice did funny things to her insides.
He thumbed over his shoulder at her closed back door. “That little twerp is going to spill his guts. Word will get out. There is no calling it back. If you won’t do this for yourself, do it for your daughter.”
Word will get out.
Lisa. Her gaze went to the back door. What had she caught while her mother was attacked? What had she overheard the officers say afterward and most importantly, what had she told their neighbors?
“I need to get Lisa back.” Was that her voice? It didn’t even sound like hers.
“I’ll have one of my officers fetch her,” said Jack.
“No!” Morgan headed out the door at a run and Ray caught her easily. He didn’t grab her or try to stop her, just jogged along beside her across the dirt and gravel that separated her door from the Herons’.
She burst through the back door to find Guy Heron alone in the kitchen with Lisa. He had a hold of each of her daughter’s shoulders. Every hair on Morgan’s neck lifted. At seeing Morgan, his expression changed from eagerness to guilt. His gaze flashed from her to Ray Strong, now standing behind her. Now she saw fear.
“Oh, hey,” said Guy. “Everything all right?”
Morgan glanced to Lisa. Her daughter looked frightened and she did not need to call to her. Morgan just lifted a hand and Lisa ran to her mother. Their hands clasped and Morgan drew herself up as she tugged Lisa behind her.
“We were just talking about what happened tonight. Just your dad’s room, huh?” Guy’s voice held a note of force levity but the room had gone deadly quiet.
“Take Lisa home,” said Ray.
Morgan turned to go and then paused as she recalled the man Ray had beaten in her house. She’d seen him dragged out by two officers. His face had been swollen, raw and bloody. Morgan glanced at Mr. Heron. The man had been interrogating her daughter. Morgan knew it and so did Mr. Strong. The fury and fear mingled into a hard lump in Morgan’s stomach. Then she looked at Ray Strong, who had dipped his chin and fixed his gaze on Guy in a way that seemed like anticipation. The muscles at his neck bunched in coiled potential energy.
He tore his gaze from Guy to meet hers.
“You’re hired, Mr. Strong.”
Ray 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,