The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3) (16 page)

Morgan risked a glance and saw that Ty’s lips were pressed together tight. “I’m sorry about Gregg. I was watching through the window when he turned the gun on you.”

“So you blew up the propane tank to stop him.”

“Desperate times,” Ty said, cocking his head to the side. “I figured you’d never forgive me if I shot your brother.”

“You were right,” she said with a nod of her head.

“Even after everything he’s done to you?”

“Just because he’s a disloyal bastard, doesn’t mean that I have to be. I don’t think he’s making the top of my Christmas card list this year, but he’s still family.”

“If you say so.” The tone of his voice made it clear that he didn’t fully agree with her reasoning.

“How did you find me?” Morgan changed the subject as the sirens grew closer.

“I didn’t. Michael did. He planted a tracking device on the back of my jacket last night.”

Morgan smiled widely. “I could tell he didn’t quite trust you.”

“You’re lucky to have so many people that care so deeply about you,” he said. “Myself included.”

“You’re right.” A blush burned Morgan’s cheeks as Ty’s gaze locked with hers. “I am lucky.”

“Did you mean what you said a minute ago?”

“About you deserving to be thrown over a seven-foot fence?”

“No,” he said, his eyes taking on an unusually intense look. “About being in love with me.”

Morgan bit into her lower lip as she slowly nodded. “I think I did.”

“Good,” he said, leaning forward. He brushed the hair away from her cheek with his good hand. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen head over heels with you, too.”

Morgan closed the distance between them. Ty’s lips brushed against hers, soft and sweet.

For a second she forgot all about dead mobsters, police chases, and traitorous siblings. There was only the two of them. Her and Ty, and the kind of kisses that curled her toes.

Half a second later, the sounds of the gate being broken down echoed through the junkyard and brought her back to her senses. Morgan jumped to her feet. She waved her hands above her head in a wide arc, desperate for them to see her.

“Hey! Over here. Ty’s been shot,” she called out.

The next minutes went by in a rush. All kinds of cops rushed over—some SFPD, some FBI. Paramedics were called. They did their best to patch Ty up where he sat then lifted him onto a gurney.

Morgan stayed by his side as they rolled him toward the ambulance, only letting go of his hand as they slid him inside.

Morgan turned around and searched the crowd of officers for the most senior-looking of all of them. Dark blue suit. Grey hair. That had to be Ty’s boss.

She ran over to him. “Can I follow Ty to the hospital?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not, Miss Kincaid,” the man said. “We have some questions to ask you first.”

Crap.

“Don’t worry,” the man said with a sliver of sympathy in his eyes. “I’m Agent Washington. Agent Brannigan made me promise I would drive you to the hospital myself once we’re done.”

“Is this going to take long?” she asked, turning around to watch the ambulance speed off down the street.

“Probably,” the man said.

“I was afraid of that,” she said with a deep shrug. “Then I guess we better get started.”

“I suppose we should.” A slight smile pulled at the agent’s mouth. “We’ll start with if you know this man. We found him running down the street.”

The agent turned Morgan toward a police car that was slowly driving through the crashed gate. It stopped at her side. Morgan leaned over to peer through the window. There, in the back seat, she saw Gregg sitting with his head hung low, his hands still clutching Barinov’s briefcase.

“I do,” Morgan said as she straightened up. “As much as I hate to admit it, I do.”

Chapter Sixteen

Morgan lifted her head up from behind the bar as the bell over the front door chimed. She smiled widely as Ty stepped into the cafe.

She turned to her bartender. “Do you think you can handle things on your own for a while?”

“Of course,” Donna said. “I know you’ve been waiting for him.”

Morgan untied her half apron and tossed it behind her. She pushed past the swinging door that separated the bar from the floor and wound her way through the packed tables.

The Phoenix Cafe was nearly full to capacity tonight. Some of the groups were busy with role playing cards or board games, others were tightening the last screws on their electrical projects. But the important thing was they were all here...in her new place.

Morgan wrapped her arms around Ty's neck once she reached him. “You're off late tonight,” she said kissing his cheek.

It was already dark outside. She'd watched the lights of the city turn on through the long, wide windows that lined the cafe hours ago.

Obviously not content with a kiss on the cheek, Ty tilted his face to brush his lips against hers.

“Sorry about that. I was busy with a lead. I texted you.”

“Yeah, I was too busy with the evening rush to check my phone.” Morgan smiled at him. “Did you finally break down and ask Michael for help?"

“I might have called him once or twice at Quantico,” he said, sliding his eyes to the side.

“It sounds like he's happy there. I’m glad that he took you up on the job.”

“They’re certainly happy to have him, that much I'm sure of,” Ty said.

“Well, I'm glad you're here now. I was afraid I wouldn’t see you until I got home.”

It had been nearly a month since they’d moved in together. Her place, of course. Hardwood floors or no, she hadn’t been able to step foot into his apartment without flashing back to bullets whizzing past her head.

“I’m glad I made it before closing time,” he said.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Morgan asked.

“A beer would be nice.”

“You got it,” Morgan said. “I’ll grab us a couple if you’ll find us a place to sit.”

“Easier said than done,” he said, looking around at all the taken seats.

“It’ll be worth your while. I have a surprise for you.”

“Well, in that case.” Morgan tried to walk away, but Ty pulled her back for one more kiss. “Hurry back.”

Morgan nodded and walked behind the counter. She grabbed a couple of icy bottles from the fridge as Ty found the last pair of empty stools at the bar. She walked over and put the beers down in front of him along with a large piece of chocolate cake with a single candle in the center.

“What's this for?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “It’s not my birthday.”

“I know it’s not
yours
,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “The Phoenix Cafe is three months old today.”

And that wasn’t the only anniversary. It had been six months since the terrible day that Barinov had shot Ty in the shoulder. Five since the sale of Kincaid's had gone through. Four since Morgan had applied for the permits for The Phoenix Cafe, and three months since the doors had opened.

Not that she was counting.

Just her blessings. She tried not to dwell on the fifteen-year sentence that Gregg was serving.

The cafe had been a success from the moment the doors had opened. But much more gratifying than the monetary success was the satisfaction Morgan got out of running the place.

She loved this community, and she was happier now than she had ever been. She didn't hide in the back. She didn't apologize for what she did, and she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She was in her element and it showed.

The Phoenix Cafe was her pride and joy.

Well, it wasn't her only joy in life.

Far from it.

Ty smiled widely. “Congratulations, my love,” he said. “I’m proud of you."

Morgan blushed. “I couldn't have done it without you.”

Ty shook his head. “Don't be ridiculous. Of course you could have.”

Fair enough. Morgan shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, I wouldn't have been alive to do it without you. How about that?”

Ty leaned forward and kissed her again. “Oh, I almost forgot. I've got something for you as well,” he said.

He pulled a blue and white envelope out of his inner jacket pocket and handed it over to her.

“What's this?” Morgan asked.

“An invitation.”

Morgan's brows pulled together as she pulled out a heavy gold embossed card. “A wedding invitation,” she said.

“Looks like my old friend Alex Tanner is finally getting married.”

Morgan raised a brow. “Finally? What does that mean?”

“Trust me, if you'd ever seen these two together you'd know what I mean.”

Morgan pursed her lips together. “It's out of town. But I'm sure I can get Donna to watch the cafe while we're gone.”

“I’d get coverage for a couple of extra days if I were you.”

“Why?” Morgan asked, putting down the invitation and languidly wrapping her arms around his neck. “Do you have plans for a little romantic getaway?”

“I wouldn't know anything about that.” Ty shrugged his shoulders with feigned innocence. “But I do know Alex and Beth, and trust me, nothing goes as planned when those two are involved. In fact, it reminds me of a certain redhead I know.”

Morgan slapped his arm. “I have no idea what you're talking about. Besides, I'm not a natural redhead.”

“You don't say,” Ty said in mock surprise.

“Anyway,” she said, bringing the subject back to something other than hair dye. “It’s just a wedding. What could possibly go wrong?”

Ty chuckled as he shook his head. “Place your bets.”

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Continue reading for an excerpt from the first book in The Second Service Trilogy.

Excerpt from The Wedding Trap by Adrienne Bell

Book 1 of The Second Service Trilogy

"I'm thinking of killing off Charlie," Beth Bradley said, leaning back into the overstuffed chair in the corner of Isobel Munoz’s hotel suite.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. For real this time."

"You've been saying that since we were in the seventh grade."

Beth grabbed her champagne from the side table. She twirled the crystal flute between her fingers as she looked out the window at a magnificent view of the San Francisco Bay.

Isobel was right. Of course she was. She’d always been the one with her head screwed on straighter. And it showed. Isobel had earned better grades in school. She'd landed a better job. It wasn't even worth going into how superior her taste in men was.

“You’re right,” Beth conceded. "At the very least, I've got to break up with him."

"Before the wedding?" Isobel asked, turning slightly so the seamstress could continue pinning the hem of her gown. Her voice was thick with disbelief. Beth didn't blame her. After all, how many times had they had this conversation?

"Why not? It's as good a time as any. Anyway, what difference does it make? I'm going to be all alone on your wedding day. I might as well be honest about why.”

"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything. I’ll just wait right over here while you call your mother and tell her the news.”

A half-panicked laugh slipped from Beth’s lips. She turned her head away from the window, meeting Isobel's gaze in the full-length mirror that had been set up in the spacious sitting room.

"Yeah, maybe after is better,” Beth said.

"At the very least, it's more realistic. Let's be honest, Beth, you’re not giving up on Charlie at the moment you need him most," Isobel said.

Beth sighed and took another sip of her champagne. Just a sip. She’d only had half a banana and a handful of grapes for breakfast. It had been crackers and carrot sticks for lunch. Come hell or low blood sugar, she was determined to fit into her bridesmaid dress Sunday morning.

"You're right," Beth said. "As always."

Isobel smiled at her in the mirror. There was no malice in her eyes. If anybody knew how Beth's mind worked, it was her dearest friend.

"I think that just about does it," the seamstress said.

"Thank you so much." Isobel turned around to face Beth. "Well, what do you think?"

Tears welled up in Beth's eyes. She couldn't help it. Sure, she'd already seen Isobel in the elegant ivory gown at other fittings, and she'd cried at every one of those too. This round of last minute alterations was no different.

"You look just beautiful," Beth choked out.

Isobel's eyes turned glassy too. "Oh God, why did I ask you to be my maid of honor? If this is how we are today, how the hell are we going to be on Sunday? The second I see you crying, I'm going to start."

"I won't cry at the ceremony. I promise."

"Yeah, right. I'll believe you've finally killed off Charlie before I believe that.”

“It could happen,” Beth said with a smile.

The moment was broken as Beth’s phone started to skitter across the tabletop next to her. She reached out to grab it, but stilled her hand the second that she saw the name on the screen.

“Are you going to get that?” Isobel asked.

“It’s my mother.” Beth waited for the call to go to voicemail.

Isobel shook her head. “You know she’ll only call right back.”

“Maybe she won’t this—“

The phone began to vibrate again.

“Time.” Beth let her head fall forward before she looked up at Isobel. “Sorry.”

“Don’t bother apologizing to me. You’re the one I feel sorry for.” Isobel turned toward the seamstress and started going over the final alterations as Beth hit the accept button.

“Hi, Mom,” Beth said.

“So you’re not taking calls from your mother any longer?” the familiar, guilt-inducing voice said on the other end of the line.

“No. Of course not. My phone was across the room. I just couldn’t get to it in time.”

“So you say. I was just calling to tell you that after a hellish plane trip, your father and I have finally made it to the hotel. Where are you now, dear?”

“I’m in Isobel’s room. She’s having her final fitting.”

“Oh, how wonderful. Tell me what room she’s in, and I’ll come right up.”

Beth shot to her feet. “No.”

There was a pause on the other end. “What do you mean, no?”

“Uh, I just mean that there’s a lot of, um, stuff going on in here. It’s a little hectic.” Beth put her champagne down. There was no way that she was going to let her mother blow into Isobel’s room and ruin her friend’s lovely moment with her own drama. “How about I meet you down in the lobby instead? You can tell me all about your trip over a nice, relaxing glass of wine?”

A long silence stretched on the other end of the line. Beth held her breath.

“A glass of wine does sound nice,” her mother conceded.

“Great. I’ll meet you down there in five minutes.”

Beth hit the end button before her mother could change her mind.

“I have to go,” Beth said.

“I heard,” Isobel said. “I’ll come down and save you just as soon as I can.”

“Are you sure? You could hide out up here all night if you want. There’s no reason for both of us to get pulled into this pit of suffering.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Isobel said with a shrug and a smile. “Besides, I told Jordan that I would meet him down there for drinks before dinner with the family this evening. And you’re family as far as I’m concerned.”

Tears started to well up again in Beth’s eyes. “I’d hug you, but I’m afraid I’d get you all wrinkly.”

“Love you too,” Isobel said.

Beth started for the door, but Isobel stopped her. “Hey, you might need that,” she said pointing to Beth’s purse next to her half-f champagne glass.

“Ah, thank you,” she said, and went back over to get the purse. She paused for a second and looked down at her champagne. What the hell? She could use a little bracer before going down there. She emptied it in three quick gulps.

Beth rushed down the long, ivory-papered hall to the elevator. She hit the down button twice and waited.

And waited.

The Kensington Hotel was the Bay Area’s oldest and most elegant hotel—emphasis on the oldest. Usually, that was a big part of its charm. But right now, waiting for the single elevator in the place to creak its way up to the fifth floor, it felt more maddening than charming.

Beth glanced toward the stairwell. It probably wasn’t the best idea. She was feeling more than a little light-headed from downing that champagne on an empty stomach, and with her luck, the elevator doors would open the second she set foot on the stairs.

She glanced down at her phone. Five minutes had already passed since she’d hung up on her mother, which meant that she’d be down there now, arms crossed and counting every extra second that she was late.

Beth went for the stairs. She was only a little wobbly on her heels as she tore down the first two flights.

Her eyes were on her feet as she rounded the curve on the third, and she smashed into a wall. At least that was what it felt like. Her purse flew from her hands. The contents spilled out all over the floor as she stumbled back a step. Two strong hands wrapped around her arms, keeping her from tipping over and landing on her ass.

Beth looked up into the most gorgeous pair of ocean blue eyes she had ever seen. Her jaw dropped open as she sucked in a breath. The man standing in front of her was perfect—or damn near it.

He stood a little over six feet tall. All his features—his cheeks and chin, his nose and brow—were strong without being sharp. Even so, his lips were the only part of him that looked any kind of soft. The barest hint of stubble outlined his jaw, but it somehow fit with his finely tailored designer suit and his tousled, dark, short-cropped hair.

“Are you okay?" he asked after a long moment had passed.

Oh God. She’d been staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m…um….” Great. It wasn’t enough that she’d been ogling the poor man; now she couldn’t even string a sentence together. Beth snapped her gaze down to her feet and saw everything she had been carrying strewn across the landing. That brought her back to herself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said, finally letting go of her arms.

Beth bent and started picking up everything that had flown from her purse—her wallet, a pack of gum, her compact. She was surprised when he did the same.

“No, I’m really sorry. I was in a hurry and wasn’t watching where I was going. My mind was someplace else. My mother is waiting for me in the lobby, and she always makes me a little crazy. Only this time I’m the one making myself crazy because I’m not sure if I should tell her the truth about something, or if I should just keep lying. Well, at least through the weekend. And…”

Beth glanced up to see him on one knee, holding her lipstick and a pack of tissues in his open hand. His eyes were steady on her, but the expression in them was guarded.

“And, now you think I’m crazy.” Beth grabbed her things and stuffed them back in her purse. She ran a hand down her skirt, smoothing it out, as she stood. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. Damn, even his voice was sexy, all low and rumbly. “And, I understand.”

The mystery man started back up the stairs, leaving her dumbfounded on the landing.

“You do?” she called after him.

He didn’t turn around. ”Everybody’s mom drives them crazy.”

Beth took a few deep breaths before continuing down the stairs. By the time she finally made it to the lobby, she was well and truly late.

She found her mother sitting on one of the antique Edwardian sofas. Her back was straight, and her arms were crossed. Not a good sign. She arched her brows as Beth neared.

“Sorry I made you wait. I had a little accident on the stairs,” Beth tried.

“Of course you did, dear. It’s always something.”

Beth sighed as she plopped down next to her mother. “Where’s Dad?”

“Your father decided to stay in the room. He wanted to rest before dinner. The traffic from the airport was just awful. I don’t know how you put up with it every day.”

“Well, it is five o’clock on Thursday.”

Her mother’s brows pulled together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying that it isn’t always that bad.”

“If you say so.”

Beth closed her eyes and bit into her lower lip. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Not if she wanted this evening to get any better.

She blew out a long breath and pasted a wide smile on her face. “Did you want to go to the bar and get that glass of wine now?”

Her mother waved her hand. “There’s no need. Someone already went to get it for me.”

“Someone went for you? Who?”

Her mother lifted her gaze to a spot across the wide marble lobby. Beth turned her head to see who she was looking at.

The groan that she’d been trying so hard to hold back since sitting down slipped out.

“Oh no, Mother. Don’t tell me you asked
him
.”

“I didn’t ask him, darling. He offered. Besides you should be thanking me. If you play your cards right this weekend, you might just be able to get him to take you back.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t want him back,” Beth said in a rushed whisper.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s handsome. He’s successful. He’s—“

“A total sleaze bag.”

Her mother shot her a piercing look. “You don’t seem to mind his brother marrying Isobel.”

Of course, she didn’t. Jordan Masterson was a good man. He was honest and kind. Everything that his jerk of a brother, Spencer, wasn’t.

There wasn’t time to explain any of that to her mother before the man in question stepped in front of them holding two glasses of wine. He handed one to her mother.

“Thank you, Spencer darling,” she said. “Won’t you sit down with us for a while? Beth here was just saying how happy she was to see you.”

“Is that right?” he asked, quirking a brow. He shot Beth a greasy look that made her empty stomach churn. Too bad there wasn’t anything in there to puke up all over his shiny shoes.

“Hello, Spencer,” Beth said through gritted teeth.

She knew this moment was coming. It was unavoidable. She was the maid of honor. He was the best man. But somehow she’d convinced herself that she’d be able to avoid her jerk-off ex-boyfriend. At least until the rehearsal dinner.

He slowly looked her up and down. His smirk said he wasn’t impressed. “You look…well.”

Beth's smile tightened. The guy with the spiked blonde hair and popped collar thought he could judge her appearance?

Still, the night wasn’t going to get any better if she threw gasoline on the fire. Somebody had to take the high road. It might as well be her.