Defending Morgan (Mountain Mercenaries #3)(45)

Glad that she’d gotten that done and off her plate, Arrow turned off the engine.

Neither said anything, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Finally, Arrow said, “I’m sure Dave knows we’re here and is wondering why we’re sitting in the parking lot instead of coming inside.”

“What, does he have cameras set up out here or something?” Morgan asked.

“Yup.”

“He does?” she asked in surprise. “I was kidding.”

“There are cameras all over this place. Does that bother you?”

“No. Should it?”

“Nope. But I wanted to warn you anyway. Don’t be leaping on me to suck face if you don’t want it on video.” She chuckled, as he’d intended. “Stay there. I’ll come around,” he ordered as he climbed out of the truck.

He took her hand as she jumped down from his truck. He frowned as he realized for the first time how tall his truck was. He’d never even thought about it, but seeing how hard it was for Morgan to get in and out made it more than obvious. He’d need to get some steps for her, or running boards. Better yet, maybe he’d finally upgrade his truck for a newer model that would be more comfortable for her. His mom and sister had been bugging him for years to get a new one, but he’d blown them off.

He threaded his fingers with Morgan’s, and they headed for the front door of The Pit. “Ready?” he asked as he grabbed the handle.

“Lead on, my mighty Marine.”

Arrow knew she was teasing, but he liked when she called him hers. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him.

The second they walked into the dark space, a female voice cried out, “Oh my God! My baby!”





Chapter Eleven

Morgan stiffened at the hysterical cry, but quickly relaxed. It had been a while, but she’d recognize her mom’s voice anywhere.

She dropped Arrow’s hand and ran toward her mom. The older woman was standing stock-still in the middle of the bar, frozen as if in shock. She obviously knew Morgan had been found alive, had probably even watched the news conference, as the TV in the bar was on, but hearing someone say your daughter was all right and seeing it for yourself were two completely different things, Morgan knew.

She threw her arms around her mom, and the two hugged and cried together in the middle of the bar, not even caring who was watching. She buried her head in her mom’s hair and inhaled, smelling the familiar scent of coconut. Her mom had used the same shampoo for years, and smelling it again after all she’d been through was almost too much.

“My baby,” Ellie Jernigan said again, rocking her daughter back and forth. “I never thought I’d see you again. Everyone told me to stay positive, but I’m not an idiot. I know when someone disappears, it’s usually only a matter of time before their body is found in the woods, half-gnawed by wild dogs.”

Morgan chuckled against her mom. She’d always been overly dramatic. Pulling back, Morgan smiled, held out an arm, and said, “I’m okay. See? No gnawed bones.”

“The others said you were at the clinic getting checked out. Are you okay? I know you had that implant, so you shouldn’t be pregnant, but you never know about anything else.”

Morgan blushed and stared at her mom in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she’d brought that up, blatantly acknowledging what Morgan must have suffered. Morgan wasn’t an idiot—she knew there was a chance she could have some sort of disease, but the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it in front of everyone. “I’m not pregnant,” she settled on saying quietly, biting her lip in mortification.

“How about you two come over here and sit?” a man with a southern accent said, and Morgan felt him take a gentle hold of her elbow and steer her toward a couple of chairs.

Glad for the interruption, so she didn’t have to go into detail about her visit to the doctor with her mom, Morgan allowed herself to be led toward the chairs.

“Morgan, this is Dave,” Arrow said from her other side.

Turning toward the man who’d interrupted her and her mother, she looked up at him. He was not only a foot taller than her—he was massive. He had muscles on top of muscles. Arrow and his friends were well built, but not like this man. He was also older than them too. If she had to guess, she’d say he was closer to her mom’s age than her own. Maybe in his mid-to late forties. He had short hair with a bit of gray in it, as well as a beard, also liberally sprinkled with gray.

He was extremely tan, but it was the large scar snaking down the side of his neck, disappearing into the collar of his T-shirt, that she couldn’t take her eyes from. It looked like whatever had happened had almost decapitated him or, at the very least, severely slit his neck open.

Her hand was lifting toward the scar before she thought about what she was doing. Luckily, she caught herself before she’d actually touched the man. Flushing in embarrassment again, she froze with her hand in midair and stared up into his brown eyes.

“You must be Morgan,” he said, his deep voice sounding like Morgan Freeman’s . . . except with a southern twang to it. He gripped her hand in his, shaking it before letting go.

“I am.”

“Welcome to The Pit,” he said, as if she hadn’t just made a complete fool out of herself in front of him by almost touching his scar. “I’m Dave. Can I get you something to drink? A soda? Water? Something stronger?”