The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3)(8)

Whatever trouble Gregg had stumbled into, she was willing to bet it had to do with the men he was with now. She’d seen them in the club dozens of times, and every time Gregg bent over backwards to be with them.

It shouldn’t have surprised her. They looked stylish, and rich, and powerful—all the things that Gregg desperately wanted to be. But they were also scary as all hell.

This was the first night that Morgan had been able to work up enough courage to come out and talk to them. Even now she was having second thoughts. These didn’t look like the kind of guys you wanted to mess with.

But she wasn’t going to mess with them. She was just going to say hello. She had every right to talk to the people in her club. Even if they did look a whole hell of a lot like mobsters.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

She was just about to turn back around when Gregg glanced up and their eyes locked. For a brief moment, his face fell and it reminded Morgan of the look he would get when they were kids. Back then, Gregg always managed to pout his way out of all kinds of trouble.

Well, not this time. If these guys were as bad as she feared, then her brother needed her help.

Morgan cleared her throat before she stopped in front of the table. A dozen stony faces stared back at her.

“Hey, Gregg,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. It was nearly impossible to do and still be heard over the music. “Do you want to introduce me to your friends?”

“Morgan,” her brother said, his voice filled with warning.

“I guess not.” She turned toward the man sitting in the middle of the booth. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that, whatever was going on here, this guy was the one in charge. The man practically exuded power. Morgan extended her hand. “I’m Morgan Kincaid. Gregg’s sister and co-owner of Kincaid’s.”

The man looked down at her hand, but didn’t take it. His face was flat, showing no sign of emotion.

“Miss Kincaid,” he said in a thick Russian accent.

Morgan pulled back her hand and rubbed it against her other one. The truth was she was suddenly glad he hadn’t shaken it. She could only imagine that with a stare that icy, his touch was even colder.

“Morgan,” her brother tried again.

“I’ve seen you in here, a few times before Mr…” A long silence hung in the air as she waited for him to fill in his name. Morgan swallowed past the lump quickly growing in her throat. “And I thought I should come over and introduce myself.”

“And so you have,” the man said with a note of finality in his voice. He turned to the slim brunette at his side and started to talk in a language she didn’t understand.

Morgan felt heat creep into her face. Who the hell did this bastard think he was that he could talk to her like that? This was her club. This was her house.

Well, half of it, at any rate.

“I was also wondering what your business with my brother is.”

The Russian stopped talking. He slowly turned toward her.

“Morgan, don’t,” Gregg said, louder this time.

“I have no idea what you mean, Miss Kincaid.” It took every ounce of resolve for Morgan not to wither under his openly hostile stare. “But even if I did, the business would be, as you said, between your brother and I, and no concern of yours.”

Glacial blue eyes burned into hers as he picked up his glass and took a drink.

“True,” she said. “But, like I already said, the club belongs to both of us.”

“Is that right?”

“It is,” she said.

Morgan crossed her arms in front of her chest. She hated a bully. Anger always roiled up inside of her every time she came in contact with one, along with the burning desire to put them in their place. But even she had to admit she might have gone overboard with this one.

There were bullies, and then there were dangerous criminals. Morgan had a terrible feeling she knew which column this guy fell into.

And she’d just poked him with a stick.

But if she was in over her head, then how deep was Gregg?

She glanced over at her brother. His head was hanging down between his shoulders. She had no doubt she was going to get an earful later. That was fine. He’d get one right back.

“I will be sure to remember that…and you, Miss Kincaid.” A chill ran up Morgan’s spine. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure she wanted this guy remembering her.

Of course, she didn’t want him in her club either.

Every eye at the table was focused on her, each stare practically dripping with malice. Morgan straightened her shoulders, refusing to show fear. It was all an act. She was terrified, but she didn’t want these guys to know it. The whole crew reminded her of a pack of predators, hunting together, looking for the first sign of weakness before they pounced.

So how the hell was she going to get back to the relative safety of her office?

Morgan started as a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. She spun around and breathed a sigh of relief to see Ty standing there.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but we’re all out of Stoli, and I couldn’t find any in the backroom.”

“It’s on the second shelf from the top.”

“I could really use your help finding it.” His gaze narrowed just a sliver.

“Of-of course,” she said, feeling like an idiot. The guy was trying to give her an out. She had no idea why, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.