Defending Morgan (Mountain Mercenaries #3)(11)

Morgan didn’t know how old he was, but she estimated quite a bit older than her twenty-six . . . no . . . twenty-seven years. Maybe in his midthirties. She guessed he was prior military of some type simply by his mannerisms and his silent, competent way of sneaking around. She wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’d seen combat at one time or another.

But the bottom line was that she felt safe with him. When her hand wasn’t tucked into the waistband of his pants, he was holding it tightly in his own. Morgan had no idea where they were or where they were going, but she was content to let him lead. He’d put on his night-vision goggles again, and every time she tripped over her own feet, he was there to keep her upright.

Arrow turned to her and pushed the goggles up on his forehead. “I need you to stay here while I go make a distraction.”

Morgan’s hand immediately tightened in his. She wanted to shake her head. Wanted to cry out and beg him not to leave her, but she forced herself to let go of him and nod.

She obviously hadn’t hidden her distress as well as she’d hoped because his hands came up and cradled her face. “I’m not leaving you for long, Morgan. But I need to do this. From what I can tell, we’re pretty much surrounded. They aren’t as stupid as I’d hoped. They obviously suspected we’d try to slip around them when it got dark. Not only that, but they’re desperate.”

“Why?” Morgan whispered.

“Money.”

“Money?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Someone is paying them to keep you here.”

Morgan shook her head in confusion and frustration. “I’m no one,” she said. “I’m a beekeeper, for God’s sake!”

Arrow blinked. “A beekeeper? Really?”

She nodded. “Yes. I have a bunch of hives, and I collect honey. I sell it online and to local stores . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at the filthy ground at her feet. “At least I used to. I’ve been gone so long my bees probably died or flew off, and all my contacts have certainly moved on by now.”

She felt his finger under her chin, and she looked up.

“That’s cool,” he said with a small smile.

Morgan couldn’t help but return it. It was kind of cool. She’d never been afraid of the insects growing up. She’d been more fascinated with them. And when she found out how valuable and necessary they were to society and the food chain, she’d decided to do what she could to help in a small way.

“I don’t know who’s behind your kidnapping, but I promise I’m going to figure it out.”

She wanted to ask why. Why would he care? But she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The truth was that she was petrified to go home. If someone was paying these thugs in the Dominican Republic to keep her here, they could certainly have her snatched the second she arrived home. She had no idea who she could trust . . . except for Arrow and his team.

“We need to talk,” he went on. “I’ll need to know everything about your family, boyfriends, girlfriends, people you work with, vendors . . . hell, even the guy at the grocery store who bags your stuff. My team and I will narrow down who might want you out of the way and why. But first we need to get out of this alley and out of this country.”

Morgan nodded. “And in order to do that, you need to go do your invisible-man routine, and you can’t do that with me hanging on to your pants like a three-year-old, huh?” She joked about the situation to cover her nervousness and reluctance to let him leave.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Arrow said, “I want to leave you here about as much as you want to be left. But I swear on my honor that I’m coming back for you. Nothing will keep me away.”

“You can’t promise that,” she told him.

“I can. And I am,” he vowed.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan nodded. “Okay, where should I hide?”

Arrow grimaced. “It’s not exactly the Ritz.”

Morgan looked around and saw a few large, dark shapes, but she couldn’t make anything out. It was amazing how little light there was in Santo Domingo. She supposed it was because of the poverty level. She was used to streetlights, and even lights on the outside of buildings, but here, everything was just so dark.

Arrow put his hand on her arm and guided her next to a plastic container. The smell emanating from it was horrendous, but Morgan didn’t care. In fact, the stinkier it was, the better for her because someone would be less inclined to check it out. Obviously, Arrow thought the same thing.

“I know it’s gross, but the fact that this restaurant specializes in fresh seafood and therefore has a lot of smelly trash will work in our favor. I haven’t forgotten that I’ve promised you a nice long bubble bath. I owe you double after this.”

She could tell he felt awful for her having to hide with rotting fish guts, but she shook her head vehemently. “You don’t owe me, Arrow. If anything, I owe you.”

“We don’t have time for this discussion right now, but trust me when I say you don’t owe me a damn thing. You didn’t ask to be here. You didn’t ask to be kidnapped and abused. You didn’t ask for this.”

Morgan thought about his words for a heartbeat. Then a part of her old self surfaced. He was right. She’d had a lot of time to think about it, and even if she’d done something stupid that last night she’d been in Atlanta, she didn’t deserve what had happened to her. “You’re right. I didn’t ask to be here. So you do owe me. My favorite bubble bath is chamomile. If you can get your hands on some, I’d appreciate it.”