The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3)(30)

That’s right. They’d left them in the kitchen. Morgan started off in that direction.

A strong hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“No. You’re not.”

Morgan spun around.

“Listen, how long have you been investigating, Barinov?” she asked him, not backing down an inch.

“Sixteen months.”

“And in all that time, why haven’t you been able to make a move on him?”

His brows became a dark slash over his eyes. “Because I haven’t found any evidence that I could make stick.”

“Well, I can get you that evidence.” Morgan pulled away from his grip and continued on to the kitchen.

This was turning into a pretty serious conversation, and, in Morgan’s experience, those always went better when at least one of the parties was wearing underpants. She bent at her knees to pluck them out from underneath the cabinet. “But to do that, I need to go to the club.”

Morgan shimmied on her drawers before turning around to face him. The little slip of silk might not be much, but at least she wasn’t starkers anymore. Ty, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same vanity issues.

Of course, he didn’t. He made naked work.

He still wore the same deathly serious expression on his face, but now there was a spark of curiosity that wasn’t there before.

“What evidence?” he asked slowly.

“If my brother has been taking money from the Bratva, he’ll have a record of it. A second set of books to track what goes to Barinov and what stays in the club. I bet you a million dollars he keeps that ledger in his office.”

“That’s what you were trying to get to the other night.”

Morgan nodded.

Ty’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”

“Because I wanted proof of what was going on.”

“No. Why do you want to hand that evidence that proves your brother’s guilt over to me?”

“My brother is guilty.” Morgan took a step forward, being sure to keep the pile of clothes she had wrapped up in her hands strategically placed over her chest. “We both know it. And this is getting out of control. If the Bratva is willing to come after me, it’s only a matter of time before they decide that Gregg is more trouble than he’s worth and do the same to him. At least with the FBI he’ll be protected.”

“We can only offer protection if he’s willing to testify against Barinov.”

“He will.” He wouldn’t have a choice. Gregg might be a fool, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. Morgan knew that once he realized the reality behind his options he would make the right decision.

Now, whether or not he would forgive her was another matter entirely. At least he’d be alive to hate her, and that was all that really mattered.

Ty seemed to think about it for a second. Morgan could tell he was interested. Really interested. But then he shook his head.

“I’ll never be able to get a judge to sign a search warrant based just on your hunch that Gregg might have evidence in his office.”

“But I don’t need a search warrant,” Morgan said, straightening her spine. “It’s my club. I can go anywhere I want, take whatever I want.”

“I don’t kn—” Ty froze. His face went hard—scary hard—just like it had before he’d pounded the guy into the pavement. His eyes fixed on the wall of windows behind Morgan.

“What?”

“Someone’s coming up the fire escape.”

“How can you tell?”

A fraction of a second later, Morgan heard the unmistakable creak of the metal.

“Go to the bedroom.” His voice was a tight whisper.

She didn’t ask any more questions. She hurried in that direction. She was only halfway there when she heard the kitchen window shatter. A wisp of wind flew past her shoulder.

Bullets?

Dear God. Someone was shooting at her.

She turned toward the bedroom door. Little shards of wood were flying off the wall behind her.

She wasn’t going to make it running. No way. The bedroom was still a few feet in front of her.

She closed her eyes, and dove for it. She hit the floor and slid over the hardwood floors. She’d just passed through the open doorway when Ty’s body crashed into hers. He’d had the same idea apparently.

Morgan looked him over with wide eyes as he kicked the door closed. She let out a sigh of relief when she didn’t see any blood on him.

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Morgan nodded. She wasn’t, of course. She was about as far away from okay as anyone could be. But she wasn’t hurt. Not yet at least.

Ty took her word for it. He jumped up from the floor and rushed over to a chest of drawers against the far wall. He pulled out a large black gun and turned back towards her.

“The closet,” he said, motioning with his free hand.

Morgan crawled along the floor, still clutching her pile of clothes, and scooted back into the far corner. Ty stepped in behind her and put his finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet.

Like she needed the reminder. Even if she had thought it would be a good idea to break into a fit of hysterics, her body wouldn’t obey her. Terror seemed to have frozen all but her most vital parts.

Ty turned around, crouched down, and pulled the door handle until the door was almost closed. A thin slash of light fell against a dark blue jacket hanging in front of her.