5

Sandy Hook Kentucky. It was even smaller than her father had told her it was. As Maggie packed the first load of supplies from the SUV to the camping area her father had directed her to, she shook her head in amazement as she remembered the drive through the small, no horse town.

One main street, a courthouse, a video store, a drug store and a dozen odd one-story offices lined the mile long elevated two-lane road. It had a quaint, farming community charm, and a gas station attendant there had assured her that thought the natives might seem restless, they weren’t dangerous. He had done so though with a slight warning in his sexy, drawl of a voice.

Several people had spoken to her when she went inside to buy ice and cold drinks for her spare cooler. They asked her why she was there, who she was staying with, and who her family was. They seemed interested when she told them she was a feature journalist for the National Forum, and was at present working on a story concerning the great outdoors. They didn’t seem to believe her, but they were willing enough to go along with her. Cooperation ended there, when she had flashed Maria Morales picture at them, and asked if anyone knew her. No one knew of her, no one had heard of her or her son. So Maggie had dropped the subject and answered the questions regarding herself.

The idea was to let people know who Maggie was. One of the notes Maria had sent her father had assured him that her son would recognize his name, as well as the name of the National Forum. It was to be one of the first steps in initiating contact with him. A contact Maria had assured Steven, that her son might be hesitant to make.

“He’s extremely wary now Steven,” One of the journal style notes had revealed. “The time he spent at the Genetic Councils lab after his recapture has scarred him I’m afraid. He’s terribly mistrustful of everyone, leading me to believe that perhaps a friend betrayed him. We left the moment he returned, sneaking away in the dead of night to find yet another place to hide, another place that will be safe for but a short while.”

The letter had brought tears to Maggie’ eyes. To live such a life, always frightened, always on the run, it must have been horrific. In her research, Maggie learned that Maria had come here after running that last time. Hiding within a small town, drawing little attention to herself or her son, she had apparently found a place that the men searching for her could not find.

Now, as Maggie trudged the half-mile or so from her campsite, back to her father’s SUV she understood why. The area was practically primitive. She wished she had taken up a few of the offers that she had received earlier from a few of the younger men to help her unload the SUV. The rough trail leading to the out of the way campsite she had been directed to didn’t leave much room for the Toyota to join her. Moocher had though. He was merrily checking out scents and crevices, and poking his nose into places that Maggie was certain would lead him to trouble.

The hundred and thirty pound German Sheppard seemed to have no fear. He kept her in his sights, but other than that, made a nuisance of himself with the wildlife. That lack of fear in her canine companion led Maggie to relax as well. With the training Zane had given the dog, Moocher would not be relaxed and confident if there were any dangers lurking around.

After lifting her sleeping bag, rolled foam pads and two medium sized coolers from the SUV, Maggie locked it up carefully, set the security alarm, and then breathed in wearily.

She had meant to set up the tent before loading everything into the great beyond, but after struggling with the damned thing for an hour, she had finally given up and decided to pack her stuff in before dark. It would definitely be past dark before she managed to get the Great Monstrosity her brother Brock had loaned her, into a clearly upright position.

She wanted this story, bad, but she wondered though why any self-respecting creature of research wasn’t located in civilization. You would think New York would be a much better location. At least they had take-out there. Here, it was a good half-hours drive to the nearest McDonalds, and she hadn’t seen a good Italian restaurant period. This place was locked in the middle ages.

“Come on Moocher,” she called out to the dog as she lifted the camping pack onto her back, then reached down and picked up the more than heavy coolers at each side of her.

This was going to be a hell of a trek, she thought.

“Too bad you aren’t a bit bigger, Moocher,” she told him as he nearly loped ahead of her, then turned back as though to ask her why she was moving so slowly. “I’d strap this crap on your back and let you pack it for me.”

Moocher looked at the load straining her arms then his turned his back on her once again and put still more distance between them.

“Some friend you are,” she called out to her mutinous canine. “I’ll remember that come dinner time.”

Maggie realized though, that there was a smile on her face. She was deep in the forests, her campsite more than half a mile away, and her arms were on fire from the load she was carrying, but she was smiling.

The air was clean, the large creek running beside her was soft and quiet, disturbed only by the sounds of birds singing happily in the trees around it, and the splash of the fish in it.

There were no loud, brash cries from her brothers, no macho jeers at her for lingering behind them. She was beginning to think that perhaps it was her brothers that ruined her earlier camping trips, and not nature itself.

Finally, panting from exertion, her arms aching from the strain, Maggie entered the clearing where she had attempted to erect her tent earlier. She stopped, blinking in confusion as she stared at the fully erect, no longer sagging tent that was now sitting at the base of a large stand of boulders instead of in the middle of the large clearing.

A fire ring had been set up in front of it, not too close, yet not too far away either, filled with deadwood. Maggie narrowed her eyes as she gazed around, searching the sudden quiet of the trees, the almost dead silence that fell around her. Apprehension flared in her chest as she realized that someone had been in the camp while she was gone, and was most likely hidden somewhere close by now.

Carefully, she moved toward the campsite, watching the area suspiciously. That tent had not been so straight and tightly stretched before she had left, neither had it been sitting so close to those boulders.

Maggie glanced at Moocher as he sniffed around the now well-ordered camp. His tail was still wagging, and though his eyes were searching the area he didn’t seem alarmed or wary. Could she have made contact so quickly? Maggie had hoped, but never dreamed that she would. Yet, who else would have bothered, only to hide as she appeared?

“Okay, where the hell are you?” She called out, watching as Moocher sniffed carefully around the boulders. “I kinda liked my tent just where I had it sitting.”

Reaching the shelter in question, she dropped the coolers on the rock and sand packed ground before lifting the pack from her shoulders. She watched Moocher closely. He kept glancing around, as though searching for something, but he wasn’t concerned. If Moocher wasn’t concerned, then he was either gone, which Maggie doubted, or had assured the dog he meant no harm during one of the times the dog had beat her to camp. Maybe there was some sort of animal affinity from the DNA or something? Maggie was still confused on the scientific aspects of the man she was searching for.

“Moocher, some guard dog you are, you aren’t even growling.” Maggie frowned as the animal stared back at her happily as he marked another boulder.

“Great,” she muttered, throwing the pack in her tent and collapsing in front of it tiredly.

Maggie opened the closest cooler and pulled out a bottle of icy water. Uncapping it she took a long sip as she continued to look around. Across the creek was a sheer rock cliff, with a steady stream of water falling eighty feet or better from the top. The sound of the water splashing into the boulders below was oddly soothing to her senses, despite the proof of an intruder in her midst.

“Zane, if it’s you out there, I’ll shoot you with Dads gun for sure,” she called out as she wiped the sweat wearily from her brow and continued to look around. She doubted it was her brother, but a girl could never be too certain where such a brother was concerned. “Before I do, be kind enough to find a way to get the SUV closer to the campsite. The porta-pottie is still in it, and I swear, I just don’t have the energy to pack it in tonight.”

She really needed that little pottie sized unit, she thought as she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the tent. When she re-opened her eyes, and watched Moocher, Maggie felt herself calming back down. Someone was definitely out there, she could feel them watching her, and she had a feeling she knew who it was.

Her father remembered this area Maria Morales had talked about, and the fact that it was part of some family land she owned. It made sense that her son Talen would now own it, and Maggie guessed that was who was watching her so closely.

Maggie had wondered how she was going to find him, and now she knew. He had found her instead, and that suited her just fine if it meant a straight tent that wasn’t likely to collapse on her the minute she feel asleep.

Now, she thought, if she could just get that pottie out of the truck and placed where it would do her the most good.

Stacked beside the tent was a pile of gear she had brought in through the day. One was a pup tent that would serve as an outhouse type shelter for the pottie. She just couldn’t imagine dropping her pants now, aware there were eyes out there to see, and relieving herself. It was going to be a long night though, if she didn’t find some way to pee.

Damned if Damen hadn’t been right, Talen thought, as he watched the girl closely. She was loaded for the summer and looked like trouble with a capital T. Just what he needed right now. First the damned mercenaries camped out on his doorstep, and now this. What had Maria done before she died, written letters to anyone and everyone who could hassle him?

Maggie Taylor was small and slender, but temptingly rounded in all the right places. Dressed in khaki hiking shorts, a tank top and sturdy boots, she was the picture of a weary camper.

Her long brunette hair was escaping her ponytail, and lay in disheveled strands along her cheek and neck. Her breasts rose and fell as she relaxed in the gentle shade provided by the trees that grew tall and strong behind the boulders. Shade that Talen had been certain she would have. He was a fool, he told himself with a touch of resignation. A fool with a death wish, evidently. He should have been scaring her away, not making life easier for her.

Talen had moved the tent so she would be afforded the cool protection of those trees. The summer days could be stifling beneath the hot noonday sun. It looked as though she had come prepared to stay all damned summer too, just as Damen had said.

That tent had been a hopeless case anyway, the way she had been putting it together. She had placed rods C and G into rods R and T and it had no hope of ever standing properly. Whoever had taught that woman to set a tent must have been a moron.

Talen grinned, a porta-pottie? He couldn’t believe it. Then again, maybe he could, she looked like a woman who didn’t care to rough it, but she was damned sure going to have her conveniences if she could manage them.

The dog had collapsed down beside her now, his mouth open as she poured fresh water onto his tongue. It looked like a favorite game between them.

“My name is Maggie Taylor,” her voice was soft and sweet as it sounded through the clearing. “My father is Steven Taylor. I’m a journalist for the National Forum, and if I come up missing he’s really gonna pitch a stink around here.”

It was all Talen could do to keep from chuckling aloud as she talked to him. Of course, she had enough to sense to know he would still be around.

“I have a gun too. A big old automatic rifle my brother taught me how to use, and a pistol I can take your eyes out with, so you better not mess with me.” She warned him, but he heard no fear in her voice, and saw the smile on her face.

She must have been about to say something else, because she frowned in irritation as a cell phone beep began to echo from inside the tent.

The woman reached into the unzipped door, and picked up the offensive piece of electronic equipment.

“Oh you would have to turn this piece of shit back on.” Her voice was filled with disgust. “See, I could have just sworn I couldn’t receive the signal, despite my brothers tinkering. But oh no, you have to turn it on. Hello?” She was quiet for long moments, but he watched as her frown deepened.

“I guess I accidentally turned it off, Zane.” She lied blithely, listening with an air of boredom as she held the small black phone to her ear.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying so much about me.” She listened again.

“Yeah, whatever big brother. You just stay on your side of the nation, and I’ll stick right here for a while.” Evidently, brother dear didn’t want her camping.

“It’s my story. Tell Caleb he can cram it. He’s not stealing another one off me.” She listened again.

“I’ll call Dad.” Talen wondered if that was the best threat she had.

“Fine, you do that Zane.” Boy, she was getting mad now, Talen thought, as he watched her face flush, and her eyes sparkle in anger. “You just go right ahead and make an ass out of yourself, then I’ll write that sex novel I’ve been dying to get into, and you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll publish under my own name. Better yet, I’ll dedicate it to you, because you showed me what not to look for in a man.” She listened a while longer, slowly relaxing as she did so.

“Yeah, you just go ahead and get that belt ready, big boy, and I’ll tell Moocher you’re on your way over. We both know how well he likes you when you’re pissed off.” Ahh, another threat, Talen thought. The woman knew well the way to her brother’s heart. He wouldn’t want to mess with that damned dog himself.

“Yeah, whatever. Kiss Dad and the boys for me, and I’ll be thinking of you when I fry my fish tonight asshole.” She disconnected the link, nearly throwing the phone back into the tent.

“Since you’re being so helpful, whoever the hell you are, why not stroll back to the SUV and cart my porta-pottie back to me while I start the steaks? You want dinner?”

Talen stayed quiet as she rose from the ground and began digging around in the canvas totes he had stacked along the outside of the tent. He hadn’t had time to check them, but he had a feeling there was enough stuff there to keep her well and comfortable for quite a while.

“While you’re at it, find somewhere to park the truck closer to the campsite. I know there’s a nice little spot right above the trees behind me, but for the life of me I can’t figure out how to get around there, and Dads gonna be really pissed if someone steals the tires off that hunk of macho muscle he bought.”

She blithely carried on the one sided conversation as she lit her fire, laid out several packages from a cooler, pulled a pan from one of the duffle bags, and unfolded a small metal table and chair and set it away from the fire.

All the comforts of home. Talen shook his head once again, and wondered why the hell Steven Taylor had sent his daughter out here.

A feature story on the joys of camping his ass, he thought, as he turned and headed through the trees back to the main road. No one in their right mind brought a damned porta-pottie to the great outdoors to enjoy the wonders of nature. They learned to drop their drawers in the bushes and make due.

Porta-pottie. The damned woman was insane. As he walked, he pulled the small pack from his own back and checked his tools there to make certain he had what he needed to break through the shrieking alarm he knew would be on the SUV.

Talen hoped the potty was the only thing he had to lug back through the dense, rough trail to her campsite. He was tired himself, and more than ready to head for his makeshift bed. Watching this woman would be the most exhausting job he had taken in years. Too bad it was him she was looking for. He could have made the experience much more pleasurable than it was going to be.

One thing was for certain. No pretty, sweet smelling little woman was tricking him again. He had learned his lesson there years ago, and he was determined to not make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t twenty-one any longer, and his hormones were now controlled by him; he wasn’t controlled by his hormones. His first great love affair had taught him the value of self control.

His experience in the Council’s new labs had been less than pleasant, and the nightmares that still haunted him, as well the others, and was enough to ensure that he gave second, and third thoughts to who he dared trust. That meant helping her out while he could, but making certain distance was maintained. He didn’t really believe she was part of the Council. Steven Taylor was known for his exacting honesty, and his determination to right injustices conceived at the government level. But she could be a weakness, and the Council had learned early how to use weakness against those they singled out.

Talen would have preferred to just head home and forget about the pretty little woman that had the townspeople gossiping so hard. The minute he heard the name Talen knew who she was, and the story she was after.

He couldn’t give her the story, but Talen knew his mother would have never forgiven him if he didn’t watch out for her. Maria had loved Steven until the day she died. She would have expected him to watch out for the man’s daughter.

He could tell from the look of the daughter that she was trouble though. Soft and round, her voice a husky little sound of sensuality, her body made for a man to love. That woman would tempt a saint, and Talen knew he was anything but a saint.

As he slid the porta-potty and two overlarge canvas bags weighing a ton a piece from the SUV, he shook his head at his own ignorance. Look at him, carrying her packs through the trees like a man with no brain, and nothing but his dick to guide him.

He relocked the vehicle and reset the security alarm, then hefted the small box under one arm, the two canvas totes over the other, and following the uncomfortable hardness in his jeans, set out for Miss Maggie Taylor’s camp once again.