Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6)(69)

Morgan thanked Mac again, and he walked away.

“Are you staying here?” Lance wrapped his arms around Morgan.

Morgan nodded, slipped her hands around his waist, and pressed the side of her face against his chest. “I’ll stay with Gianna until she’s out of surgery.”

“Do you want me to get you anything from home?” Lance kissed the top of her head.

“No.” She leaned back and patted her tote bag. “I have a toothbrush and change for the vending machine. That’s all I need.”

Sleeping in her clothes was going to start feeling normal.

His blue eyes were concerned. “I don’t like splitting up, but there are only two of us.”

“Thank goodness for Mac and Stella.” Morgan pulled her hands free, then settled them on his broad chest. “I’ll be fine here.”

Lance held on, hooking his hands together behind her back. “What about Peyton and Ian? Could either one of them help out?”

Morgan’s older brother was NYPD SWAT. Her younger sister was a forensic psychiatrist in California. “I’ll give them both a call, but they have careers. They can’t just drop everything to watch my kids. Besides, they both requested their vacation days to come for the wedding.” Morgan paused. “Speaking of the wedding, maybe we should think about postponing it.”

Disappointment flashed in Lance’s eyes for just a second.

It had taken her a long time to put the grief over losing her first husband behind her and make room for Lance in her heart. He’d waited patiently for her to be ready. She’d been excited about the upcoming wedding. Everything had been going so well for them.

“It’s not that I want to,” she said. “I just . . .” She couldn’t verbalize her emotions. “I don’t want to go forward with our wedding if Gianna is in the hospital and Olivia is still missing or . . . worse.”

“I know.” He looked away. “And you’re right.”

“I don’t want our anniversary to carry the weight of . . .” Morgan trailed off. She didn’t want to say Olivia’s death.

Lance nodded. “I know there’s more at stake here than our wedding. Finding Olivia and getting Gianna healthy are more important. But I really want to marry you. Living together is great, but it’s not enough for me.”

She rose onto her toes and kissed him. “Maybe you’ll find Olivia today, and Gianna will be fine. Then we won’t have to cancel.”

The look in his eyes was not a hopeful one. But he kissed her. “I love you. Wedding or no wedding.”

“I love you too.” She pressed her lips hard against his and hugged him, grateful to have him in her life. “It feels really selfish in light of everything else that’s happening, but I’m disappointed. I was really looking forward to our wedding.”

“Me too.” He smiled sadly and cupped her jaw with one hand. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” What Morgan needed was three clones of herself.

Lance’s phone buzzed, and he read the screen. “Sharp wants to go talk to Joe Franklin. Stella just got called back to the station for a press conference.”

“Be safe. Take care of Sharp—and yourself.”





Chapter Thirty “I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Lance said.

Sharp ignored him and got out of the Prius.

Lance followed, tugging his jacket over the butt of the Glock on his hip. The sun had set, and trees bowed over the narrow dirt lane, blocking the moon and casting them deeper in shadow. Cold wind shifted through the branches and rustled leaves overhead.

“He doesn’t answer the gate intercom or his phone, and we need to talk to him.” Sharp walked around the front of the Jeep and stared at the metal-and-wood gate that barred access to Joseph Franklin’s property.

“This guy is serious about his privacy.” Lance surveyed the dark woods. Joseph Franklin owned fifty heavily wooded acres.

“Yep.” Sharp squeezed through a gap between the gate and fence post.

With a sigh, Lance followed him.

“We’re just going to knock on the door.” Sharp started up the driveway without hesitation. He was getting more desperate—and more reckless.

“It doesn’t feel like a knock on the door type of place.”

The driveway narrowed beyond the gate. Branches met over their heads and formed a tunnel of foliage. It also feels like a trap.

“Your mom said Joe Franklin is a game developer,” Sharp said. “He’s a nerd, not a member of any militia.”

They rounded the curve and stopped.

“Not what I expected.” Sharp stared ahead.

“Me neither.”

Landscape lights brightened the property. Instead of a fortified cabin, the house was a three-story stone structure built to mimic an English manor. It looked like a drawing in one of the girls’ fairy-tale books. In front of the stone steps, the driveway circled around an empty fountain.

Sharp nodded toward the house. “State-of-the-art satellite dish.”

Lance saw brand-new surveillance cameras mounted under the crumbling eaves. “Cameras too.”

“He’ll know we were here.” Sharp plowed forward. He jogged up the steps and pressed the doorbell. Nothing happened. Sharp rapped on the heavy door with a fist.