The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3)(9)

“Thanks,” he said.

Morgan glanced back at the row of steely faces staring at her, and nodded. It was the best she could do to try and save face.

Ty kept his hand on her shoulder the rest of the way back to the bar. It wasn’t until they’d reached the backroom, and the lights switched from dim and moody to bright and fluorescent that he pulled it away.

“Th-thank you.” Morgan forced the words through the flood of embarrassment clogging her throat.

Ty kept walking toward the storage room. “For what?”

Morgan narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. Was it possible that he didn’t know that he’d saved her ass back there…possibly literally?

She opened the door. A neat row of Stoli bottles glistened in the overhead light on the second shelf from the top.

Just where she’d said they’d be.

“Oh,” Ty said walking past her. “Can’t believe I missed those.”

He tucked a bottle under his arm and strode back into the hallway without looking her in the eye.

Yeah, she couldn’t believe it either.





Chapter Four




Another day, another episode of slamming her laptop closed in frustration.

Morgan was getting sick of this routine, but there was no denying it. Some other source of revenue was making its way into the club’s accounts. And after last night’s confrontation with the Russian mystery men, Morgan was willing to bet she knew where the money was coming from.

The thought sent a chill through her.

No wonder her brother had been too ashamed to look her in the eye last night. She had a terrible feeling he’d managed to get them involved in some very serious shit. Money laundering. The Russian Mob. Gregg was lucky the damned feds weren’t knocking down their doors right now.

Not that Gregg would ever admit to anything. She loved her brother deeply, but they were very different people. Gregg cared about money and status. His deepest desire had always been to be somebody. He would never give that up on his own.

On top of all that, he was one hell of a coward. Gregg had been avoiding her all day and ignoring her texts. If he couldn’t stomach facing her, how was he going to stand up to the mob?

Morgan stared down at her closed computer for a long time before she finally mustered the courage to open it again. Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed San Francisco Russian Mob into the search engine.

The Bratva.

Page after page of horrible things they were responsible for popped up on her screen. Pictures too. Photos that made the blood drain from her face. Images of people who had crossed them.

“What have you done, Gregg?” Morgan muttered to herself as she scrolled down the screen. How was she ever going to get him out of this mess?

Or herself? Everything she had was wrapped up in the club. She’d poured the last year of her life into this place. She’d bet her whole future on it.

All because Gregg had convinced her to.

Of course, he’d left out the part where he’d made the place a success by funneling dirty money through it.

Fear and anger warred for supremacy inside her.

I will be sure to remember that…and you, Miss Kincaid. The mobster’s words came back to Morgan in a flash.

Yeah, fear was winning. Definitely, fear.

A tight knot formed in her belly. She ran her hand across the back of her neck.

What could she do?

She couldn’t go to the cops. Not yet. Not without solid proof. If they started asking questions, the Bratva would know she was the one that squealed. And she really didn’t want to end up in a dumpster somewhere…not like that poor guy, she thought, staring down at her computer screen.

The hinge of her office door creaked. Morgan jumped up and slammed her laptop shut. Only when it was securely closed did she look up…to see Ty Daniels standing in her doorway.

“Mr. Daniels.” Relief washed through her. She’d worked herself up, she realized. There were no mobsters waiting to fit her for a pair of concrete shoes. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“You didn’t.” The words tumbled out of her mouth too fast. “Just startled me is all. I didn’t realize it was eight o’clock already.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. I’m early. I wanted to see you.”

“Wh-what can I do for you then?” Morgan smoothed a hand down her hair and tried to regain her composure. Ty’s intense stare wasn’t helping any. She figured he was probably just confused by her startled reaction, but there was something about being locked in his grey-green gaze that made Morgan’s heart beat even faster. She tried to tell herself it was just the remnants of last night’s embarrassment, but not even she could trick herself into believing that.

Ty stepped inside, and stopped. His eyes darted around the room. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Finally, his mouth opened. “Wow. There is a lot of stuff in here.”

Morgan pushed her chair into her desk, and stepped around the side. By now, she was used to people’s shocked reaction to her office. It was so different from the stark, modern look of the rest of the club. Her space was a riot of color and toys.

But that was the point. It was her space. The only part of the club that really was hers. Everything else was Gregg’s vision. She figured that if she had to spend fourteen hours a day in a tiny office she was at least going to surround herself with things she liked.