The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3) (4 page)

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.

“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.

Okay. So she could see how some people would think she went a little overboard. Posters and artwork lined her walls. Action figures and vinyl toys were propped up on every open surface. She even had a couple of spaceship models hanging from the ceiling near the back corner. But she loved every single piece that she’d placed in here. They all had significance to her. They all made her smile.

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Daniels?” she asked as he picked up one of the figurines from the corner of her desk.

“Ty,” he corrected.

“Okay…Ty.”

He held up the doll, dressed in a tweed suit and red bow tie, and showed it to her. His eyebrows arched with a question, making him look even more adorable. She hadn’t realized that such a thing was possible.

“It’s the eleventh doctor,” she said.

“Ah,” he said, looking down at the figurine in fascination. “I have no idea what that means.”

“That’s okay.” Morgan took a step toward him. Her fingers brushed against his as she slipped the doll from his hand. Ty looked into her eyes at the contact, and Morgan drew a breath as the same electric sizzle from last night ran through her.

That was it. She had to get out of the club more often. She was stressed out and needed a release. That was all. One brush against a tall, dark hottie shouldn’t have her panting like a puppy.

Morgan tossed the figure down on her desk and went back to her chair. She gripped her fingers around the back.

“What did you need to talk to me about, Mr…Ty?”

His hand found the two square inches of empty space on her desk, and he leaned against it. “Just thought I should drop by before my shift and see if I still have a job.”

Morgan’s brows pulled together before her eyes went wide. She’d been so wrapped up with her own drama that she’d almost forgotten his conditional status.

“Y-yeah. Of course.” The words caught in her throat as they tumbled out. “You did great last night. The job is yours if you want it.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem.” Morgan would be a fool not to keep him on. She’d seen how the female clientele had fawned all over him. And the waitresses had raved about him all night. Morgan had even overheard Lecia calling him her White Knight.

If she were honest, he’d played that part for her last night as well.

Morgan glanced down at her desk. The images of the
Bratva
victims popped up in her head.

She had a terrible feeling White Knights didn’t fare so well outside of fairy tales.

Crap.

“Hey,” Morgan said, stopping Ty as he started to walk out of her office. “About last night.”

Ty turned and faced her. His expression was flat, and his shoulders were stiff. He wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted her to think he was. “What about last night?”

“You saved me from a tense situation, and I wanted to thank you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talk—”

“Save it.” Morgan cut him off. “You know it. I know it. Let’s just stop pretending.”

Ty straightened, but didn’t say a word. That was better.

“You’re a nice guy, Ty,” she said, stepping closer. “And I know you were trying to help, but, I promise you, I can take care of myself.”

“Are you in some kind of danger?” His voice took on a steely edge of concern.

Yes. Maybe. Who the hell knew?

“No.” Morgan shook her head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

He didn’t look convinced. He tilted his head to look her in the eye. Gone was the languid charm from a moment ago. His whole body was strung tight. Morgan could practically feel the energy emanating from him.

“It’s just a little family drama, that’s all,” she continued, trying to reassure him.

“You’re sure you’re not in any trouble?” he asked, his voice practically vibrated with intensity.

“I’m fine. I swear,” Morgan said, looking him dead in the eye. She tried her best not to squirm under his scrutiny.

After all, where was the harm in one little lie?

Chapter Five

Morgan Kincaid was a terrible liar. The thought floated through Ty’s head as he pulled the Ducati into the alleyway behind Kincaid’s.

Her tells were obvious. Her jaw tensed. Her eye contact intensified. She scratched her nose. Over the last couple of days, he’d been able to spot every white lie and whopper that had fallen from her lips. Starting with the one about not being in any trouble with the
Bratva
.

The lies hadn’t surprised him. He was used to people trying to deceive him.

Ty still hadn’t figured out how deep Morgan Kincaid’s connection with the
Bratva
went, but he was showing up at the club early again today hoping to find out.

Ty had figured he’d burned any chance of getting on Gregg Kincaid’s good side when he’d come to Morgan’s rescue. Which meant his only chance of getting any deeper into the workings of the club laid with getting closer to Morgan.

And that’s what he planned on doing. Ty didn’t care how long it took, he was going to gain her trust. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be hard. A smile here. A joke there. Ask her questions about her toys and trinkets.

After only a couple days, Ty could tell Morgan wasn’t a woman with many walls. She greeted almost everyone with a smile. She didn’t hide her emotions. She wasn’t ashamed of her passions. If she wasn’t a suspect in one of his investigations, Ty might be tempted to call her a friend.

Truth to tell, he’d be tempted to call her a hell of a lot more than that. Which was surprising. She wasn’t his usual type. Normally, he was attracted to women that fit a more mainstream definition of beauty—long legs, plenty of makeup, natural color hair.

Morgan was about as far away from that description as a woman could be. And yet something about her had gotten under her skin. Maybe it was the sound of her laugh or the way her cheeks sometimes lit up when she smiled at him. She wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever spent time with.

Of course, it didn’t matter what he thought about her bright caramel-colored eyes, her easy laugh or her bright hair. The only thing that mattered was her connection to the
Bratva
. What she knew, and what she could tell him.

So far, all he’d been able to conclude was that she was afraid of them.

That proved she had a brain in her head, which was more than Ty could say about her brother. Gregg Kincaid had spent the better part of every night seated at Barinov’s table.

Ty pulled into what was quickly becoming his usual spot between the Audi and Subaru. He kicked down his stand, slid off his helmet, and headed for the back entrance.

He heard the shouting the second he opened the door.

The linoleum-lined hallway was empty. The voices were coming from the far end. From the offices.

Morgan and Gregg’s voices tangled together, echoing off the walls.

“I’m your sister, and your partner. I deserve answers.”

“You’re acting like a crazy person. There’s nothing going on.”

Ty quietly closed the door. He had a feeling this was coming. Gregg Kincaid had been avoiding Morgan since her run in with the
Bratva
. Everyone who worked at the club had noticed. He showed up late and left early.

Ty hadn’t heard Morgan say a word about her brother’s behavior. She didn’t have to. He could tell by the worried crinkles around her eyes that it bothered her more than she was letting on.

He hurried down the hall, making sure to silence his footsteps. The last thing he wanted was for either of them to know he was here. Not before he’d heard what they had to say.

“Like hell there isn’t, Gregg. I’ve been doing some research. And I’ve figured out who those men you’ve been hanging out with are.”

“Morgan—”

“They’re the Russian Mafia.”

“Keep your voice down.”

The door to Gregg’s office was closed, but it didn’t matter. Ty could hear every word spoken. The pair was really going at each other. No surprise. This had to be a confrontation weeks in the making. Ty was only glad that he happened to witness it. It might be his only chance to catch the Kincaids in an unguarded moment.

A patch of light fell onto the floor in front of the office window. The blinds were open. Ty risked a step away from the wall, but he was stuck at a severe angle. He could only see a sliver of what was happening.

But it was enough.

Gregg stood behind a desk, his face beet red. The tendons in his neck stood out like tense cords.

Ty couldn't see Morgan, but he could tell where she was standing from the angle of Gregg’s wild-eyed stare. She had to be just inside the door. Good. She wasn't cornered.

Ty glanced behind him. The hallway was still empty, but it wouldn't be for long. The rest of the staff would start filtering in any minute now.

“Why? Do you think I’m the only one who has figured it out? You haven’t exactly been discreet, Gregg.”

“Neither have you. What the hell were you thinking barging up to them like that?”

“I was thinking that I’m co-owner of this nightclub, and have every right to know what is going on.”

“Our deal was that you run the back of house operations, and I run the money and the front.”

“That was before the goddamned Russian Mafia got a regular table in the club. So are you going to tell me what the hell is going on between you and them?”

“I told you there’s nothing going on.”

“Bullshit. Those guys aren’t here because they like the DJ. Tell me the truth. Are they connected to this money stuff?”

Ty leaned in closer at the mention of money. Close enough to see Morgan’s shadow against the far wall. Her elbows were bent, her hands on her hips.

There was a long pause. When Gregg spoke again, his voice was low. Ty had to strain to hear it.

“Have you been poking your nose in my business again?”

“See that’s the problem, right there. This isn’t
your
business, Gregg. It’s
our
business.”

“Morgan.” Gregg’s voice was filled with warning. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your mouth right now.”

“It’s mob money, isn’t it? That’s what’s inflating our accounts. What the hell were you thinking?”

“God damn it, Morgan.” Gregg raised his fists above his head and slammed them down on his desk. Morgan’s shadow jumped at the aggressive display.

Ty’s gaze flashed to the doorknob and back to the scene inside. He bit into his lower lip. Morgan was pushing her brother hard, but Ty didn’t think Gregg was going to break. Her accusations were wearing down his defenses but not in a way that would lead to surrender.

Reflexively Ty reached out for the door, but pulled his hand back before his finger touched the knob.

He had to give them a little more time. Just another minute. No more. He was getting great information. Better than he could have ever hoped for.

Morgan wasn’t involved in the money-laundering scheme. That was good. But she was digging around in
Bratva
business. And as much as Ty hated to agree with Gregg Kincaid on anything, he was right. That was bad news for Morgan.

“You know, Morgan, somebody needs to teach you to mind your own business.” The anger in Gregg’s eyes turned dark as he wrapped his hand around the base of his desk lamp and lifted it up.

Shit. Morgan didn’t have another minute.

Ty threw open the office door.

Surprise filled Gregg’s eyes as he locked gazes with Ty. Ty pulled his brows together and fixed the man with his best glower. Gregg’s expression quickly turned to shame.

“Ty?” Morgan said at his side.

He waited until the heavy brass lamp in Gregg’s hand was safely returned to the desk before he turned toward her.

Her mouth hung open. “What are you doing here, Ty?”

For a half a second, he thought about lying. But there was no other reason that he would be crashing into the boss’s office. Not a believable one, at any rate.

“I heard shouting. I thought someone might be in trouble.”

Not
someone
. Her.

Ty closed the distance between them. He put his hand on her shoulder and felt a tiny tremor shoot through the muscle beneath his palm. “Are you all right?”

She smiled tightly, but didn’t pull away. “I’m fine.”

“Did you ever consider minding your own business?”

Gregg
.

It looked like the worm had regained some of his backbone. Ty snapped his head toward him.

“No.” Ty narrowed his eyes and felt a swipe of satisfaction as Gregg stumbled back a step.

“W-we were discussing business,” Gregg said, fumbling over his words.

“Is that right?” Ty looked back at Morgan. “Was it just business?”

She nodded…too quickly. “Why? What did you hear?”

“Nothing,” he said without missing a beat. “Just yelling. Your voices were too muffled to make out.”

A look of relief washed over her face.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just fine.” Another fake smile. For his benefit. “You should probably start getting the bar ready.”

“You should come with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I could use your help.”

It was an obvious lie, but a necessary one. He hadn’t just endangered his whole investigation to leave her alone with Gregg again.

Morgan’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Ty. It was obvious that she was conflicted. She finally had the opportunity to confront her brother, but she hadn’t gotten the answers she wanted.

Ty understood. He hadn’t gotten them either.

But he knew from experience that investigations like this took time. Required patience. That didn’t seem to be a quality that Morgan had buckets of.

“Oh for God’s sake, Morgan. Go with the man,” her brother said. “He’s obviously not leaving unless you do.”

“Fine,” Morgan said, casting a glare at Ty.

He didn’t mind. Not really. She could dump whatever frustration she needed to on him. He could take it.

“We’re done here anyway,” Gregg added as Morgan started for the door.

“Like hell we are,” she called out from the hallway.

Ty glanced back at Gregg Kincaid one last time before he followed after Morgan. Gregg quickly became absorbed with some papers on his desk. It seemed he didn’t have any parting quips for Ty.

The man might be a worm, but it looked like he wasn’t a total idiot.

Morgan had already disappeared onto the club floor by the time Ty made it out of Gregg’s office.

He followed her through the swinging door, and found her bent over, digging into one of the under counter fridges beneath the bar. She pulled out a green bottle of fizzy water, wrenched off the cap and downed half the contents.

“Whoa, there tiger,” Ty said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb. “You should probably pace yourself. That’s powerful stuff.”

She shot him a glare. “I told you yesterday to mind your own business.”

Ty slowly shook his head. “No. You told me you could take care of yourself.”

She took a step toward him, gesturing at him with the bottle. “The
mind your own business
was implied.”

Ty shrugged. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little thick.”

“Lecia was right,” Morgan said, narrowing her eyes. “You
are
a White Knight.”

“Excuse me?”

“A White Knight.” She took another swig. The anger in her eyes was almost extinguished. “You get off helping people.”

Ty arched his brows. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

Morgan walked to the end of the bar and hopped on top of it. Her legs dangled off the edge. She lazily kicked them out and back again. “How much trouble you get yourself into.”

“I think I can handle your brother,” Ty said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yeah, so can I, but…” Morgan’s eyes focused somewhere across the empty dance floor.

“But what?” he prompted.

“Nothing.” She shook her head. Her gaze slowly came back to focus on him. “Listen. I like you, Ty. You’re adorable.”

“Adorable?” He arched a brow. He’d heard women call him many things—sexy, sinful, hot—but never
adorable
.

“You’ve got to trust me on this.” Her legs swung out again and Ty’s gaze was pulled toward their sway. “You
have
to mind your own business. Come in at the regular time. Make the drinks. Collect your tips. Go home. Do it all over again the next night. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“I can’t ignore screaming.”

Her shoulders sagged as she sighed. “Yeah, well, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll find a way.”