Free 2 Dead & Buried by Leighann Dobbs Page B

as they made their way up the stairs. “And don’t forget to trust your gut feeling, Morgan.”
    Morgan thought about that. Lately it had turned out to be smart— life saving even—to trust her gut feeling. But right now, her guts were all roiled up. The truth was she didn’t know how she felt.
    Seeing Luke again had caused a variety of emotions. She was mad, for sure, but she also couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to have gotten even more handsome in the past ten years. She couldn’t deny the way her stomach flip-flopped when she’d pulled off that mask or the way her senses had reveled in his familiar earthy clean smell.
    She reached her bedroom door, said goodnight and tried to push all thoughts of Luke from her mind.  
    She didn’t want … or need … him to help them and she’d be damned if she’d let him screw with her feelings again. The further away he stayed the better. She’d done just fine these past ten years without him and she sure as heck didn’t need him now.

Chapter Twelve

    The next morning Morgan stumbled into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker. She needed something stronger than her usual cup of herbal tea.  
    Fiona was already sitting at the island, sipping from a steaming mug, her red hair pulled back neatly in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.  
    “The strong stuff is in the left drawer.” Fiona pointed to one of the kitchen drawers and Morgan grunted her thanks.
    She put the K-cup in the coffee maker. The thirty seconds it took to produce the strong brew seemed like an eternity and she drummed her fingers on the counter hoping to speed it up. Finally, the mug was full and she took it over to the island.
    Closing her eyes, she inhaled the pungent aroma then took a sip.  
    “Ahh … that’s better,” she said as the caffeine started to do its job.
    “Well, it’s not vanilla latte, but it does the trick,” Fiona said. “Still, I want to stop at the coffee shop on the way to work and get my regular.”
    Morgan nodded. Fiona couldn’t function without a latte of some sort in her bloodstream and she’d settled on vanilla as her favorite of late.
    “Speaking of the shop, remind me to bring home some arnica and aloe vera to put on that cut Jolene got last night,” Morgan said.
    “I don’t think you need to bother,” Jolene said from the doorway.
    Morgan’s eye’s widened when she saw Jolene’s arm. She had unwrapped the bandage to reveal a long scar underneath—the wound had almost completely healed.
    “But that’s impossible,” Morgan heard herself say as she and Fiona got up to inspect the wound.
    “Well, it should be,” Jolene said. “But apparently, it’s not.”
    “How did that happen?” Morgan asked as Fiona pulled the carnelian stone from the middle of the gauze wrappings.
    “Is that glowing?” Morgan squinted at the stone which appeared to be glowing bright orange from the inside. Fiona and Jolene bent closer.
    “No, I think it’s just the sunlight reflecting from the window.” Jolene nodded toward the large kitchen window where the morning sun shone through.
    Morgan ran her fingers across the scar. “This is amazing.”
    “There’s a lot of strange things going on around us,” Fiona added.
    Morgan agreed—cuts that heal themselves, gut feelings that proved to be accurate, pirates, buried treasure, a cat that seemed to know what they were talking about and relatives that talked to Celeste from beyond the grave sure were strange.
    “That’s true.” Celeste appeared in the doorway with Luke. “A lot of things that shouldn’t be happening are. Maybe we should just accept it and go with the flow.”
    Morgan felt heat rise in her body at the sight of Luke. Anger … or something else?  
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
    Luke pointed in the direction of the living room. “The window, remember?”
    “Oh, right.” Morgan looked toward the living room. “Hopefully that won’t take long.”
    “About an hour.