The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3) (10 page)

Morgan gave a little gasp as Ty lifted her off of the counter. She pulled her head back.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He arched a single dark brow.
Do you really have to ask,
he seemed to say.

Oh, yeah. The bedroom. Morgan guessed a nice pillow-top was more comfortable than a granite counter. Not that she had any complaints.

She lowered her head and nuzzled her lips against the column of his neck. Feeling a little bold, she teased the sensitive skin with her teeth. She was rewarded with a low moan. She did it again. This time, his whole body tightened against her.

Suddenly, he changed direction. He took two steps, and lowered her on to something long and soft.

Morgan turned her head to the side.

The couch.

Looked like he couldn’t wait to make it to the bedroom, after all. That was fine by her. The couch worked well enough.

Ty pulled away just far enough to work on the buttons of his shirt. Morgan didn’t stop him. She’d been waiting to see his chest for a while now. Ever since the moment that he’d walked into her club, she’d been fantasizing about what he looked like. A few flicks of his fingers later, she had her answer.

And it was ten times better than she’d ever imagined…if that was possible. He was lean and cut, every muscle that she’d felt through the thin material was clearly defined. She lifted her hands to let them roam over his taut skin, starting at his chest and working down. He felt perfect.

Maybe she
was
right. Maybe he was a god.

Morgan looked down as her fingers swept over a hard pucker of skin.

A round, raised scar showed on his hip.

He pulled off his shirt to show a matching one on his right forearm. A faded red slash cut across his left shoulder.

So, he was human after all. And, by the looks of it, he’d been through some rough stuff. There was probably a hell of a story behind those marks, and Morgan was determined to hear it.

But later.

Right now, she was a little busy.

She lowered her hands to the waistband of his pants and gave him a little help with the fly of his jeans. Anticipation made her hands shake a little as she popped open the button and pulled down the zipper. If his physique was better than she imagined, she couldn’t wait to find out about his
other attributes
.

Morgan’s eyes widened.

It turned out nothing about Ty Brannigan disappointed.

She snapped her jaw shut when she heard a low chuckle as Ty slid the pants the rest of the way down his legs and on to the floor.

“I told you during my interview that I wouldn’t let you down,” he said, pulling a small square wrapper from his back pocket. For someone who’d initially said this was a bad idea, he certainly came prepared.

She cocked a brow and struggled to keep a straight face. “Yeah, you also said that you looked forward to proving yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sliding his hard body between her legs. “I live to serve.”

“Good to know.”

Ty propped himself over her on one arm. The fingers of his other hand curled in her hair. Morgan tilted her head back and into his kiss. Ty pushed his hips forward. She sighed into his mouth as his cock pressed inside her. Her fingertips dug into his shoulder blades.

He went still as his hips hit hers. Her body stretched around him.

“Morgan.” Shivers spread up her spine and down her limbs as he whispered her name.

Slowly, he pulled out. Then pushed back in again.

Morgan’s mind swam with desire. She couldn’t think. Only feel. She wanted more. She wanted all of him. She pivoted her hips higher as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.

God, she was close. So close.

Morgan cried out as Ty increased the rhythm of his thrusts. Her body surged upward as a wave of pleasure, more potent than any she’d ever felt before, surged through her. She ground against him, desperate for every last moment of bliss.

She heard his own response. The muscles of his back rippled under her fingers. She held him as close as she could as he stiffened and groaned. The sound rumbled through her as his weight bore down on top of her.

They stayed that way, his face buried against her neck, her arms and legs wrapped around his body, for a full minute as their breathing slowed. Eventually, Ty lifted his head. He swept the hair away from her face, and gently kissed her lips before lifting himself off.

“I guess I should get around to showing you the bedroom now,” he said, and stretched out his hand to her.

Morgan blushed as she slipped her palm into his. “I guess you should.”

Chapter Eleven

It felt like a second between the time Morgan’s head hit the pillow to the moment that she woke up. It couldn’t have been though. The room had been pitch black when Ty had snuggled up against her back, his arm wrapped around her waist, but now light was streaming through the uncovered window. And it wasn’t the muted glow of daybreak either. That sun was full and high.

Morgan glanced around but didn’t see a clock. She rolled over to look for another and came face to face with Ty. His eyes were still closed, but the amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips told her he wasn’t asleep.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” His voice was low and groggy. Normally, that wasn’t a sexy combination, but somehow his sleepy grumble made Morgan want to nestle deeper into the pile of blankets and pillows and slowly drift back to sleep.

But she couldn’t do that. Not today.

“It does.”

Deep beneath the covers, his hand slipped over the curve of her hip.

“You sure about that?” he said, opening one gorgeous grey-green eye.

“I am.”

Three deep wrinkles appeared on his forehead as he frowned. “You’re no fun.”

Without looking, Ty let go of her hip, reached over to the nightstand behind him, and grabbed his phone.

“9:13.”

A curse flew from Morgan’s lips as she sat straight up. She threw back the sheet. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Go where?” Ty propped up on bent elbows as Morgan scanned Ty’s pristine hardwood floor for her clothes before remembering that everything was still out in the living room. Morgan jumped out of bed.

“The club. Gregg usually doesn’t get there until noon, but sometimes he’ll show up as early as eleven. Either way, I don’t want to risk it.”

She was halfway out the bedroom door when she heard Ty’s footsteps following close behind.

“You’re not going to the club.” His voice was firm.

“Of course, I am.” Morgan didn’t stop. She scooped her bra from the floor a few steps into the living room. Her dress was still hanging off the back of the sofa where they’d left it. She swiveled her head around looking for her panties, but they weren’t anywhere to be found.

The kitchen.

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.

Everything went quiet. All Morgan could hear was the sound of her breath rushing in and out and the blood pounding in her ears. Time flew away as she waited for something to happen…anything. Fear threatened to drive her mad.

A floorboard on the other side of the wall she was tucked against groaned.

They were out there. Barinov’s men. Looking for her.

Of course, she knew that they weren’t just going to come fire a storm of bullets through the window and then take off. These men had come with a job to do, and they weren’t going to leave until it was done.

Morgan bit hard into her lip as the bedroom door creaked. She heard a foot fall… and then another. A muffled whisper in a language that she didn’t understand.

Seconds ticked by. One after another.

Morgan’s eyes were fixed on Ty who was steady as a rock in his position in front of the door.

There was another whisper…another flurry of footsteps, retreating this time…

And then a blast ripped through the wood of the closet a foot above her head. Three more followed in quick succession.

Morgan fell over on her side, and pulled her knees in tight. In a million years, she would have never guessed this would be the way that she would go out—cowering naked on a hot guy’s closet floor.

She looked over at Ty. He hadn’t even flinched.

He stayed crouched like a cat, ready to pounce. What was he waiting for? Another volley of shots? Apparently three wasn’t enough to cause concern.

If bullets didn’t scare him, what the hell did?

Suddenly, the shaft of light from the door was blocked. Morgan’s eyes focused on a heavy black boot on the floor. She was too terrified to look up.

The hinges creaked as the door opened an inch.

That, apparently, was what Ty was waiting for.

There was a flash of brilliant light as he fired. The man outside the door immediately crumpled to the ground. Now, instead of boots, all Morgan saw was the small red dot in the center of his crisp white shirt.

Morgan covered her mouth. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she had the breath to scream.

Shouldn’t there be more blood
, she thought.

Of course not.

His heart had to beat for him to bleed, and it already stopped. One well-trained shot from Ty, and the assassin was dead before he hit the floor.

Ty turned his head toward her.

“Stay here,” he said before leaping to his feet and rushing through the closet door.

Morgan nodded even though Ty was long gone. Where did he think she was going to go? By her count there was still at least one other gunman out there. But that didn’t mean that she was just going to curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to come to her.

Well…not anymore, at least.

Morgan forced herself up into a sitting position and looked around in the dim light of the tight space for something to defend herself with. There wasn’t much—a few pairs of shoes, a football, a suitcase. She spotted a wooden baseball bat in the corner.

She scooted over and grabbed it. She held it out in front of her like a club as she rose to her feet. Deep down, she knew the bat wouldn’t do her much good in a gunfight, but what the hell. Better to go out swinging than weeping.

The apartment was quiet again, and Morgan’s fingers started to tremble on the grip tape. She tightened her hold and waited. She kept her eyes focused on the bright slip of sunlight beyond the door and counted her breaths.

One…

Two…

Thr—

The sharp crack of gunfire filled the apartment.

One shot. Then nothing.

Morgan couldn’t breathe. Her lungs had stopped working. Had Ty shot the intruder, or had he been shot? There was no way of knowing. She listened for some kind of clue—Ty calling out to her, more Russian whispers, anything—but there was only silence.

What if Ty was out there, bleeding on the floor, needing her help? She couldn’t bear the thought.

Morgan lightly poked the closet door with the bat. It swung open another inch… then another.

She still didn’t hear anything.

She risked a step forward and peeked her head around the door.

The room was empty.

Well, except for the corpse on the floor.

Taking care not to look at his face, Morgan stepped over his limp legs and out into the room. She thought for a second about calling out Ty’s name, but stopped herself. On the off chance that Ty wasn’t the one who had taken the shot, it was probably better not to bring attention to herself.

She tiptoed toward the bedroom door. She was only a foot away when it flew open.

This time, Morgan did scream. Adrenaline surged through her body, and she lunged forward like a madwoman, the bat held high above her head.

She crashed hard into Ty’s body and he stumbled backwards, smashing into the wall. His arms wrapped around her middle, steadying her. Morgan instantly let go of the bat. It clattered on the floor behind her.

“Ty!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. She didn’t realize she was crying until she choked back the sobs trying to speak. “You’re alive.”