Defender (22 page)

She had thought of everything. The house was a classic Spanish villa, impeccably restored and spectacularly positioned. From the dusty white finish of the walls to the ochre tiles, black wrought iron railings and balustrades to the shimmering blue glass of the kidney-shaped pool on the lower level, the place was the quintessential British escape; a home away from home, bathed in sunshine. It belonged to Ari's closest friends, a couple, who were back in England while their children were in school. Apparently Ari travelled with the wife during their university days, and Spain, particularly Barcelona, had become a favourite.

Dressed only in boxer shorts, allowing the sun the opportunity to restore his battered body, Morgan sat quietly enjoying the moment, drinking black coffee and crunching into some toast that he'd managed to rustle together. Ari hadn't appeared yet, but he was sure he could hear her moving about somewhere.

"Hello, Mister."

Morgan felt her soft hand fall upon his shoulder. Ari was wrapped in a loose-fitting beach dress that still managed to show off her curves. She noticed him admiring her and leaned across him, enticingly close, allowing the fabric of her dress to caress his face and arm, before she playfully snatched the last piece of toast from his plate.

"Hey," Morgan protested. "That's my breakfast."

"Whatever," Ari replied, ignoring his protest. "This is nice."

"Well, I'm glad you like it." He looked up at her, smiling. How incredible was this girl.

"Thanks," she said between chews. She sat down opposite Morgan and gazed at him approvingly. Yep, even better in daylight, she thought. "So, it was a bit of an early night for you last night, wasn't it?"

Morgan shifted awkwardly in his seat to face her directly. His ribs still ached like hell beneath the bandages that cocooned the lower half of his torso; it would be some time before they were completely healed. On top of that, the bruising and panel damage he'd received when the building collapsed on top him added to his general state of disrepair.

Looking at her sitting just a few feet from him, this fabulous creature with the mesmerising blue eyes, so full of life and vitality, Morgan became suddenly conscious of his smashed body. He wanted her and he was sure she wanted him, too. But was he up to it?

"Honestly," he began, "I can't remember much oflast night. I remember you speaking Spanish to the cab driver. I remember arriving here from the airport around dinnertime and struggling upstairs with our bags. We had food delivered - some local food, I think. We had a couple of drinks, I remember that. Next thing I know, I'm stretched out on that sofa, dressed in nothing but these and my clothes are all over the floor."

Ari laughed as Morgan tried to work out whether he had forgotten something important.

"Don't worry, cowboy. That's pretty much it! The doctor warned you to take the first couple of days easy. Don't forget, apart from being black and blue, you've also suffered a pretty serious concussion.
It
only took two glasses of wine with dinner and you almost toppled from your chair," she laughed again as Morgan looked crestfallen. "There was no way I was going to have a chance of dragging you upstairs. So, I just got you comfortable on the couch and left you there. How are you feeling now?"

"Honestly, like a bloody invalid," he replied sheepishly. "I need to get myself moving. I can't sit around here all day doing nothing. I'm likely to pass out again."

"Well, it's better that you do take it easy, Mister. Just for a little longer. You're no good to me in this state. I'm going to park you by the pool for the day while I go into town and get some supplies. You need to rest - I'm going to see to it that you do."

"But," Morgan began. "Pool, Morgan. No 'buts'!"

Later, back out on the balcony, Morgan and Ari had finished dinner and were luxuriating in the peace and beauty of the distant skyline.

The golden lights of Barcelona reached out and dusted them in soft gilt. Ari had returned from a day of reacquainting herself with the town. She was radiant, Morgan thought, lightly sun-kissed and full of stories of her sightseeing and adventures in the markets. Calm, composed and contented. Morgan felt the same. He'd lost hours lazing by the pool, swimming, sleeping and reading. It had done him the world of good.

Ari was wearing a long silk dress with a colourful animal print design. A single strap snaked around her neck from her breasts and her tanned back was bare, almost to the cleft of her buttocks. The material hugged her body tightly to the hips, before falling to her feet, flowing and rippling as she swayed against the balustrade. She was looking out across the sparkling diamonds of the city with a champagne flute in hand, a gentle breeze tugging at her hair, blowing flaxen wisps across her cheek and lips.

God damn it, thought Morgan. Incredible.

"You know," Ari began, gently pulling away fine strands of hair from her mouth as the wind continued to play with her. "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be right now."

"That's a relief," said Morgan, shaking himself back from the distraction of her. He moved closer. "I thought you might have been ready to trade me in."

"Don't worry, you poor thing," she smiled up at him and placed a hand on his. 'I'm not doing that just yet. Anyway, I'm serious. After all that's happened, I can't believe we made it through."

"I know what you mean. It makes me appreciate the simple pleasures in life," Morgan added pensively.

Both fell into a comfortable silence.

Morgan took her by the hands and drew her closer to him. Ari responded, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her face against his chest. They stood quietly, enjoying the serenity and intimacy that had so naturally developed between them.

Then Morgan lifted Ari's face
to
his and looking into her eyes, knew that she was a rare find. He kissed her and she kissed him back, slowly, both in the moment. For almost an hour, they laughed and held each other. An electrical energy connected them, shielding them in the tranquility of their immediate surrounds and distancing them from the trauma of past days and weeks. Morgan felt the pain in his body subsiding.

He went and poured a champagne, another glass of red for himself, and joined her on a large sofa at the far end of the balcony. As he sat, she leaned into him, melting her body comfortably into his strong frame.

"You know, Alex," she said softly, while he absently allowed his fingers to dance gently through her hair and across her face. 'I'm in serious danger of falling for you. You should know that."

"I don't blame you," he answered smartly, then instantly tensed his body as she rammed a well-aimed elbow into him, narrowly avoiding the damaged ribs. Morgan feigned agony to derive some compassion, but she saw through it. They laughed and he pulled her even more tightly against him.

"Trust me," he said eventually, "it's incredible for me, too."

"It doesn't mean you've got the green light, Mister," she said. "You need to give me time to work this out. I mean, I'm not like you, not used to all this mayhem."

"Darlin', we don't need to rush anything. We have as much time as we need. I'm not going anywhere."

"You're the most amazing man," she whispered, sounding tipsy. "Where on earth have they been hiding you?"

"Wait 'til you get to know me first," he answered.

Within a few minutes, Ari had nestled into Morgan's chest and they both fell into a blissful, uninhibited sleep.

* * *

The scream woke Morgan instantly. Ari!

He ripped the Sig Sauer automatic from beneath his pillow, leapt from the bed, tore open his door and sprinted down the long corridor to her room. His bare feet banged heavily against the wooden floor, echoing throughout the far reaches of the eerily silent house. Light exploded from the narrow cracks around Ari's doorway as he raced to her. Brilliant blades of orange sliced into the blackness of the hall like the first rays of sun breaking through a thunderhead-filled sky. Muffled sounds came from inside the room. A struggle? Christ! What the hell?

"Alex!" he heard her cry. "Alex!"

Morgan burst through her door, gun up, ready to fire. His senses probed deep into the room in every direction.

The bedside lamp was on. There she was. Beautiful. Frightened. Naked. Sitting bolt upright amongst the pillows with the top sheet clutched protectively to her chest. Her hair was ruffled above bare shoulders, eyes and mouth agape. Morgan scanned the room; windows, dark corners and recesses. His radar in overdrive, the gun barrel travelling in perfect unison with his eyes.

Nothing.

Nothing?

"Ari," he said, still scanning. He stepped into the room, urgently wrenching back curtains, tearing at empty shadows. "What is it? I heard you scream." He dropped flat to the floor, straining to see through the black void beneath the bed. "Are you OK?"

"I... I had a bad dream," she whispered, embarrassed, ". ..and I must have screamed in my sleep. I woke myself up."

"A bad dream?'' Morgan said from the floor, rolling onto his back. He couldn't believe it. He let out a deep breath and began to shut down from attack mode. He picked up a pair of her pyjama shorts and a singlet that had fallen from the bed and got to his knees.

"Yes," she replied, indignantly. "Then I heard all that booming along the corridor coming straight for my door and you come bursting in here with a gun.
It
startled me. Where were you? Why am I in here alone?"

A smile slowly began to creep across Morgan's lips. "A bad dream," he said again, got himself to his feet, clutching at his ribs, and walked over to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed inches from her, smiling, and handed over her discardf'd sleepwear, which she snatched from him. He placed the gun discretely behind the lamp on the bedside table. Her adorable pout was trying hard to gestate into a smile but she was holding on tight.

"Are you OK now?" he asked.

"I suppose so," she answered coyly. "Where were you?"

"Well, after we both fell asleep, I thought the chivalrous thing to do was to put you to bed. I grabbed a spare room down the hall."

"So, how did I end up naked?" Her admonitory tone belied her real thoughts.

"That, my dear, is a mystery to me," Morgan answered honestly. There was that smile, he thought. Ever so slight.

Ari held his gaze and sensed the raw energy of the adrenalin-induced rush slowly subsiding throughout his body. This was the other side of Morgan, the dangerous side she witnessed so vividly in Malfajiri. His presence was magnetic. She allowed her eyes to wander across his heavy shoulders beneath the stretched white cotton fabric of his t-shirt and down along the contoured expanse of his arms. My God, she thought wickedly. A fine sweat had broken across his brow and his breathing was deep but controlled.

"Perhaps I shouldn't sleep alone tonight," she said softly.
"In
case it happens again."

"Ari," he began, playing with her hair. "There are a thousand different reasons why I shouldn't stay in here tonight."

"I know. But there are a thousand other reasons why you should." "You are a spectacular creature," he said with sincerity and just enough

humour, almost to himself. They sat gazing at each other, their breathing betraying them. The big house seemed to wrap them in a cloak of warmth and confidence. Nothing else mattered anymore, only here and now.

Ari pushed her fingers through Morgan's hair. "Stay with me." "Perhaps . . . if I slept over there on the . . ."

With tantalizing authority, Ari began to pull at his t-shirt, tugging and pulling it over his head before throwing it to the floor on the far side of the room. She drew her soft hands across his body, exploring him, reaching for him and pulling herself closer.

"Is this going to be OK?" she whispered in his ear as her hand brushed over the bandaging of his chest.

"I think so," he answered. "But, be gentle. I'm fragile." "Of course you are."

Their eyes locked above illicit grins. Ari turned the bedside lamp off and with the ambient glow of the moonlight streaming in through the windows she released the sheet, letting it drop into her lap.

Morgan leaned into her, gliding his fingers over the soft skin of her face and neck. He drew her to him easily and kissed her, feeling that delicious electricity as her breasts pressed against him. Her back arched and her slender legs stretched beneath the covers. Morgan pulled the sheets away, ran his hands along her thighs, and then slid her closer. He kissed her slowly and deeply. Ari responded. Her tongue flicked and teased in his mouth. They kissed, lost in the total abandon of the moment. They explored each other in oscillating waves of intensity and tenderness, savoring the caress of skin upon skin. The urgency of discovery grew with every touch and breath.

She reached for him, pulling at the waistband of his boxers. "Let's get you out of these."

"Did you really have a bad dream?"

Oblivious to his surroundings, Gregory Cornell headed south past the Houses of Parliament, along Abingdon Street towards the Victoria Tower Gardens. Desperate to convey the pretence of a man in control, his gait betrayed him.

Cornell kept the collar of his overcoat turned up, constantly tugging it around his face.
It
was an involuntary gesture, a reflex to withdraw from prying eyes, of which he knew there were many upon him. There had to be, but he had no choice.
It
was impossible to actually see the man face-to face. His only option was to make the call.

Suddenly, Cornell felt a heavy shove which sent him stumbling across the pavement.

"Sorry, bud," came a shocked but friendly voice. A young American couple had come from out of nowhere, blindly flicking through a fistful of novelty postcards they'd just bought. Caught up in their own world, laughing out loud at the images on the cards, the young man hit Cornell like a freight train. For his build he was quick, a Line Backer type, grappling Cornell easily with one arm and hoisting him back to his feet.