Hunted by Jaycee Clark Page A

other cars, like a race car driver.
    “When we get there, I’m going to ask for a suite. I’ll do the talking. You’re going to be ill from something you ate and wanted to head back to Paris, but we decided to stop off in Berlin instead.”
    She nodded. “I know. You told me. Got it. I’m sick. Good thing I look the part. Paris, but changed minds to Berlin. Anything else?”
    He looked at her. “Yes, when we arrive, you’re going to bed and you’re going to rest.”
    Rest? Could she rest? She didn’t know what rest was, but she was tired. Tired to her very soul. Yet, an energy hummed through her, a warning not to relax.
    Morgan. She was Morgan Gaelord.
    Morgan prayed Dusk was left behind in Prague, but somehow she knew that would never happen.

Chapter 7
     
     
    John Ashbourne, concerned husband, guided his wife to the sofa as the bellboy started the fire in the fireplace with the flip of a switch. He stood between her and both the boy and the door.
    The Four Seasons Berlin boasted of the best service. Mr. Ashbourne had used them before, which was why he decided to use them again.
    “I’d like some light soup or broth brought up for my wife, and some bread and a spot of tea. I’d like your breakfast, a bit of fruit and some juice.” He pulled a fat tip out of his wallet and gave it to the college student. “Another if you get it here in half an hour.”
    “Ja . ” He nodded and smiled.
    “Danke . ”
    He saw the young man out and turned to see Morgan still sitting on the couch where he’d left her, her head back against the cushions.
    For a moment he stared at her, wishing she’d confide in him, trust him, not as the lesser of two evils. Why had she seemed shocked that she’d been reported missing? And she had. People were always missing. Some wanted to leave, others didn’t, and some . . . some he’d learned had simply gotten lost and never found their way back. Where did this woman fit?
    He dimmed the lights, muting the room. In soft beige and yellows, it wasn’t a loud room with its cherry antique furniture. He rolled his head, trying to ease the tension as he grabbed a bottle of water from the minibar and strode to stand in front of the windows. Dawn stretched over Berlin. Lights sparkled against the winter-shrouded city. The frozen dawn fogged the edges of the warm windows. The temperatures were in the single digits.
    From their balcony he could watch the traffic below on Charlottenstrasse. Red taillights winked and mixed with the oncoming brighter headlights of those going to work. People muffled in their long coats and warm hats hurried across the street, down the sidewalks and into cabs. If he were a tourist, today he might take his wife to see some of the sights. But they weren’t and the cover she was ill would work well.
    He glanced back over his shoulder at her. Morgan sat silent and wary on the couch. She rubbed her eyes and slowly exhaled.
    The contacts. The dark brown color did not suit her nearly as well as the icy blue. The brown looked warm, vulnerable. The icy blue reminded him of steel, fortitude.
    “You might want to take those contacts out or you’ll have to pry the wicked things off come morning.”
    “It is morning,” she mumbled, leaning over onto one of the cushions, curling into herself.
    “But wait until after the soup arrives unless you want to stay hidden in the bathroom.” He took a long swallow of water.
    “My eyes aren’t that memorable,” she said, opening one and looking at him.
    Perhaps not to her. Staring at her, he smiled. He turned back to the window, watching her in the reflection.
    Some of the tension he’d felt eased. They’d gotten out of Prague and put distance between them and Jezek, but it was only a matter of time. Time. Bugger it, the girl actually meant something to Jezek. He’d seen it last evening as Jezek stared at her, and her words earlier had confirmed it.
    How much she actually meant was another matter. How far would Jezek go to find