The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3) (6 page)

Secret talents, indeed.

***

This was quickly turning into the most bizarre night of Morgan’s life. The thought raced through her mind as she stood in the pool of yellow light in the alley behind the club staring down at her deflated right tire.

She didn’t know why the flat surprised her. It only followed that in the same night that she tried her hand at a little amateur B&E, had a run in with the Russian Mob, and had an impromptu make-out session with the hottest guy she knew, she would get a flat.

Except there was a nervous flutter deep in her belly telling her that it wasn’t just a flat.

Morgan risked a step forward and craned her head around the hood of her car. Yep, the back one was flat too. It was the same on the other side.

Well, not exactly the same.

Something was sticking out of her right rear tire. Morgan froze as she saw the glint of light shining off a long silver handle.

Not handle.

Hilt
.

There was a damned knife sticking out of her tire.

Someone had slashed her tires. And she had the terrible feeling that she knew who.

Morgan’s heart pounded in her chest as she frantically looked around the empty alleyway. She was alone. At least, she thought she was. Of course, anyone could be hiding out in the shadows, watching her. Waiting until she was alone and vulnerable.

Morgan swallowed past the knot that had sprung up in her throat. She’d watched too many movies.

Still, she jumped as the iron gate behind her creaked. She spun around.

Ty stood on the top step. He wore his racing jacket and cradled a black helmet under his arm.

Relief washed over her. She wasn’t alone after all. Her shoulders relaxed a touch, but she resisted the urge to run over to him.

She already owed him a lot. Too much. He’d saved her ass.

Twice.

There was probably a limit on that sort of thing. Besides, his last method was still affecting her in ways that she didn’t want to dwell on.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping onto the pavement.

“Yeah. I just have a flat tire.” She turned away from him and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Well…four flat tires.”

Ty didn’t say a word but walked over to the front of her car. He crouched down by the wheel well and slowly ran a finger over the long slash in the rubber. He looked at the one behind him.

“You still want to tell me that you’re not in some kind of trouble?”

Morgan pressed her lips together. “It was probably just some kids.”

He pulled his hand inside his sleeve before grasping the knife and pulling it out. He held it up to the light. “Expensive knife for street kids.”

Morgan shrugged and looked at her phone, figuring it wouldn’t do her any good to come up with another lie.

Ty stood up. “What are you doing?”

“I need to call a tow truck.”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning.”

“So?” she asked. Ty stood in front of her. The knife was gone, folded up and tucked into his pocket no doubt. She had the unsettling thought that he probably knew how to use it.

Ty cocked his hip against the hood. “So…you’ll be waiting out here for hours. And when someone does show up, where are they going to tow it? I’m not aware of any twenty-four hour garages in the city.”

Morgan reluctantly looked at him. He was right. She didn’t want to admit it. Hell, she didn’t want to admit to anything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.

Except for the kiss.

Or maybe,
especially
that kiss.

She hadn’t made up her mind on that one yet.

“Where do you live?” he asked

“Noe Valley,” she said. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to take you home.”

She arched her brows. “On your bike?”

“That’s how I get most places.”

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at the black sports bike parked next to her car. It looked fast. Too fast. And dangerous. In many ways it was the perfect vehicle for Ty.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”

“That’s why I’m not letting you drive.” He tossed his helmet toward her. Morgan scrambled to uncross her arms in time to catch it. “All you have to do is climb up and hold on.”

She shot him a glare. “Oh, really? Is that all? Is that what you tell all the ladies?”

“Just you.” He looked serious. Somehow that only upped the sizzle factor. “Or…you could call a taxi and we can wait around for it to show up. Who knows, maybe the guys who left you the present in your back tire will show up before the cab.”

“Okay,” Morgan said with a quick nod. “I’ll get on the damn thing.”

“Good choice.”

Morgan fumbled with the helmet as Ty started up the bike. Once she had it snug over her head, she kicked her leg over the seat. She struggled to keep her back straight as she settled on the bike.

“You’re not going to be able to ride like that,” Ty said, his voice tinged with laughter. “Put your arms around me.”

Morgan placed her hands lightly on his sides.

Ty let out a deep sigh. He grabbed her hands and pulled her arms around him until they overlapped on the flat plane of his stomach. Sudden awareness flowed through her as her legs molded against his. Her cheeks burned with heat as her breasts pressed flush against his hard back.

At least his lips were on the other side of her this time around.

Ty walked the bike back a few paces before putting her into gear and turning the tight corner in the alley.

“Don’t go too fast,” Morgan said as he neared the city street.

“Sweetheart, this is a Ducati. It doesn’t go slow.”

He turned the throttle. The engine roared to life, vibrating like a monster beneath her. Morgan shrieked and held on in earnest as the bike took off like a bullet. The city zipped by in a blur of lights and fog.

The bike dipped down as Ty took a hard corner, and Morgan’s life flashed before her eyes. She snapped them shut, tightened the grip of her thighs and, for the first time in years, prayed.

Morgan was pretty sure Ty was laughing at her, but there was no way she could hear anything over the thundering motor.

But if he so much as snickered when she got off this thing—
if
she got off this thing—she would strangle him with her own hands.

When she finally mustered the courage to crack open her eyes again, they were turning on to Dolores Street.

“I’m down on 23rd
rd
Street,” Morgan yelled. She had no idea if he heard her or not. At this point, she didn’t care where he stopped as long as he did stop.

That wasn’t exactly true. It was obvious that Ty was a good rider. It seemed like he pushed the bike pretty hard, but he hadn’t wrapped them around any telephone poles or taken off one of her legs on the side of a parked car.

If she were honest, she could almost see the allure in riding one of these.

Almost.

The wind whipped past her body. Her heart reacted to the changes in speed, hammering with every burst. She felt connected to the space she was moving through, not removed from it by four walls.

“I’m on the right side, just past the corner,” she said as he eased up on the throttle. He pulled up to the sidewalk just in front of her building. She reluctantly let go of his waist.

Reluctantly? What the hell was that?

Shouldn’t she be falling to her knees and kissing the ground? The strange truth was that she felt something closer to disappointment than relief when she stepped off Ty’s bike.

“Well, you didn’t kill us,” she said and pulled off his helmet. “So I guess I should say thank you.”

He smiled.

Damn.

And here she’d thought that nothing could make her breath hitch the way his Ducati had.

“You liar,” he said. “You liked it. Admit it.”

She laughed. “Yeah. The same way you’re totally into me.”

Ty craned his head and looked at the facade of her building. “Do you want me to walk you up?”

She tried not to read anything into the offer. He was just playing the White Knight again. Right?

“No. I think I’ve got it from here,” she said. She handed him back his helmet. His fingers curled around hers.

“We should go out on a date.”

Morgan blinked. “E-excuse me.”

“We led your brother and his friends to think we’re an item tonight. It would probably be in our best interest to keep them believing that.”

She arched a brow. “Really?”

“Unless you want to answer questions about what we were really doing in front of your brother’s office.”

He made a good point.

“And you think that dinner and a movie would convince them.”

“I don’t think it would hurt. And the club is closed on Monday night, so the timing seems perfect.”

Morgan crossed her arms. “And how do you know I don’t already have a date for tomorrow night?”

“I don’t,” Ty said. His brow arched. “But don’t pretend you’re going to give up another chance to ride on the back of this beauty.” He patted the metal frame between his legs.

Morgan rolled her eyes. “I already have plans for tomorrow night, but I don’t see why you can’t tag along if you want to.”

“
Tag along
?”

Morgan couldn’t hold back her smile. She had a feeling that wasn’t the reaction Ty Daniels was used to getting from the women he asked out. Good. If he wanted simpering pouts and batting eyelashes, he could go find another damsel in distress to save.

“Now, it’s not really your usual date venue, and it might be a little out of your comfort zone, but I think you can handle it.”

“You think I can
handle it
?” He shook his head. “That’s nice.”

“Pick me up at eight?” she asked.

“Sounds good.” He pulled on his helmet. She turned toward the door of the building, but Ty stopped her before she’d taken a single step. “Morgan.”

“Yeah?”

“Those guys sent you one hell of a message tonight. I wouldn’t underestimate them. Watch your back.”

Morgan struggled to keep the smile from slipping from her face as she drew in a deep breath and nodded. She didn’t need the reminder. What she needed was something that would assuage the guilt of pulling Ty into her troubles.

Chapter Seven

7:52 p.m.

Morgan stared at the clock on the cable box just below her television, willing it to change, just like she’d been doing for the last half hour. It wasn’t working of course. Time stubbornly refused to bend to her desires. It ticked by at the same tedious pace as always.

Usually, Morgan didn’t have this problem. Days had been known to fly by. Hell, she’d lost entire weekends.

Of course, those days she had been allowed to leave her apartment and not forced to wile the hours away binge watching television on her couch.

Well, maybe
forced
was a little over dramatic. There wasn’t an armed guard posted outside her door keeping her inside. But there might as well have been.

Morgan hadn’t realized how rattled she’d been until she’d climbed into bed last night and turned out the lights. The second she was alone in a dark room, all the fear she’d pressed down bubbled up to the surface. She closed her eyes but only saw slashed tires, the gleam off the silver blade, the cold warning in the Russian’s stare.

Morgan had turned the lights back on thirty seconds later. She’d spent the rest of the night that way, drifting off for a few minutes only to be jolted awake by every clank and creak in the apartment.

Around nine in the morning, she’d given up. Not that the daylight had been much comfort. She kept remembering what Ty said the night before.

Watch your back
.

Those three words had effectively killed any plans she had for the day. How the hell could she watch her back if she was out on the city streets? She couldn’t go to the grocery store. She couldn’t get coffee. And she’d seen far too many mobster movies in her lifetime to risk a trip out to North Beach for a nice pasta lunch.

So she’d stayed in her pajamas and caught up on the latest season of her favorite sci-fi show. The one she was hopelessly behind on because she spent nearly every waking hour working at the club—the job that was now probably going to kill her.

Morgan had given up on feeling sorry for herself a couple hours ago and started getting ready. She’d tried on different outfits, experimented with makeup, hell, she’d even attempted an up-do. It was a disaster of course, and she took her hair down fifteen minutes later. But she couldn’t help but appreciate the irony that the date she was spending the most time getting ready for wasn’t an actual date at all.

Not really.

Still, Morgan couldn’t help but look forward to it. It wasn’t a coincidence that the only times she’d felt safe over the last two days Ty had been by her side. Sure, she felt guilty that she’d pulled him into this whole mess. She’d tried to warn him away. She’d been trying to shake him from the moment they’d met. It wasn’t her fault that the man couldn’t take a hint.

Besides, she was no longer convinced that he didn’t know what he was getting into. The man knew about expensive knives after all. He could pick—and unpick—locks. And he kissed like the devil himself.

7:55 p.m.

Now all she had to do was wait the last five minutes until he was due to pick her up. The longest five minutes of her life.

Morgan drew in a deep breath, and let her head fall back against her couch cushions…and nearly jumped out of her skin as the door buzzer screamed from the hallway.

Morgan scrambled to her feet and ran to the window. She pushed down the blinds and peered down at the street. A black Ducati was parked right in front of her building.

Oh, thank God
. She was going to die if she had to endure another five minutes alone.

Morgan rushed over to the call box and quickly composed herself before she hit the talk button.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Morgan. It’s me.” Ty’s voice filled the space. A little shiver ran up her spine.

“Is it eight o’clock already?” she said. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m a couple minutes early.”

“Cool,” she said, knowing she sounded anything but. “I’m on the second floor. I’ll buzz you in.”

She hit the button that opened the security gate over the front door. And ran to the bathroom for one last check in the mirror. Her dress fit just right. Her hair looked great. Her makeup too. She looked pretty good.

Well, at least her day of forced rest hadn’t been a complete waste.

A moment later, a knock echoed through the living room. Morgan walked at a deliberately slow pace to the front door and opened it.

Ty stood in the hallway, looking just like he had the night before—jeans, blue button-up shirt, racing jacket. It seemed his wardrobe wasn’t all that varied.

“Wow,” he said, his eyes going wide. He straightened his spine and his shoulders rolled back. Morgan did her best not to bask in his surprised—and hungry—stare. “You look…wow.”

“Thanks. I try to look my best for all my fake dates,” she said. “I just need to grab my bag. You can come in for a second if you want to.”

She held the door open for him as he stepped into her apartment. His gaze never left her. She turned away as quickly as she could and headed for the living room, before he could see what affect his stare had on her. It was one thing to flirt with Ty Daniels. It was another to be the object of his attention for real.

“Who said this was fake?” His voice followed her down the hall.

“You did.” Morgan slung the satchel strap over her head and across her chest. “You said it would help fool Gregg and the Russians.”

“All I said was it would be in your best interest. I didn’t say anything about fooling anyone.” His smoky grey gaze was fixed on her as she walked toward him.

“Oh,” she said. Suddenly, her knees felt a little shaky. It was probably just the thought of getting back on his bike again.

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Morgan nodded. She fiddled in her bag for her keys. She took more time than she needed, hoping that the blush burning her cheeks would fade away before she looked up again.

She closed and locked her front door.

“So what have you been doing with your day off?” He was close enough behind her that his breath fell across her nape. A little shiver traveled through her body.

“Oh you know. A bit of this. A bit of that.” She turned and hurried down the hall toward the elevator. She wasn’t about to admit to wasting the day away clutching a pillow while she waited for him to arrive.

“Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked.

“Pier 25.”

The accordion door slid open and Morgan stepped inside. Ty was a step behind her. Funny, she never noticed how cozy the elevator was before. Ty’s body seemed to take up every spare inch in the tight space.

“And what are we going to be doing down there?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

He looked into her eyes. A wicked smile lifted his lips. “But will I be able to
handle
it?”

“Time will tell,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, but he wasn’t the one she was worried about. Suddenly, Morgan was concerned that she was the one who wouldn’t be able to handle being so close to Ty all night.

***

It was bound to be one hell of a night.

Morgan slipped her hand into his and started to pull him away from the curb where he’d parked his bike and toward the warehouse at the end of the pier.

“Come on.” She tugged on his arm when he didn’t match her hurried pace.

Whatever was going on inside the large metal-walled building, she was excited to get there. And Ty was quickly finding out that he enjoyed watching Morgan get excited. Her eyes sparkled. Her cheeks glowed. He could almost feel the energy buzzing inside her.

It didn’t hurt that she looked like a damn pinup model tonight. Her red and white polka dot dress was cinched tight around her waist with a black belt. Big loose curls framed her face and fell down her back. And, while Ty was far more used to women in stilettos, he had to admit that the clunky heels she wore were a much better fit with her style.

She pulled again, and he relented with a laugh.

“Where are you taking me?”

She turned her head and her hair swung around her shoulders.

“Hurry up and you’ll see.” Morgan bit her lower lip as she smiled, giving her an almost painfully cute look.

“Okay. Okay.”

There wasn’t exactly a huge crowd funneling into the open doors of the massive metal building that jutted out over the bay, but there were still a decent amount of people.

Morgan’s people.

They were a diverse lot. Some had wild hair, like Morgan, but most did not. There were suits, and dresses, and jeans and T-shirts—most emblazoned with sayings and pictures of things whose significance Ty didn’t fully understand.

A big guy in a button-up shirt that strained to fit over his belly was manning the door. As soon as he spotted Morgan, he stood up from his stool and threw his arms wide.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he said.

“Corey!” Morgan shouted. Her eyes lit up and she ran into the stranger’s embrace. Well, he wasn’t a stranger to her. He was Corey…obviously. “How are you?”

“Same as always.”

Ty clasped his hands in front of him and waited for an introduction. Morgan held on tight for another second before taking a step back. But she kept her eyes and her attention on her old friend. A huge smile was plastered across her face. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, girl. We haven’t seen you around here for a while now.”

“I know, I’ve been busy,” she said, but Ty caught how her smile slipped just a bit at the admission.

“So I’ve heard. But it looks like you’re doing great.”

“Not too bad, Corey. I’m getting by,” she said.

“I don’t know. If the rumors are true then you’re doing a hell of a lot better than that.”

“You should know better than anyone that you can’t believe everything you hear.”

Ty gave up on waiting. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat. Morgan glanced back at him. A second later, her eyes widened with understanding.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. Corey, this is Ty. He’s my plus one for tonight.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Corey extended his hand. Ty took it. “Is this your first time?”

“It is.”

“Ahh…a virgin.” Corey looked at Morgan and arched his brows.

“You know how I like ‘em,” Morgan said with a wink. She took Ty’s hand again and led him through the large roll-up door.

Ty paused and took in the scene. The inside of the warehouse was one huge cavernous space. In the center of the concrete floor was a tall chain link and chicken wire cage several feet across with shiny metal bleachers pressed up against each side. The hum of conversation echoed off the aluminum walls. People milled around the cage and building, some of them poking inside crates and boxes.

“Have you brought me to a cage match?” Ty asked.

Morgan’s giggle was her answer. “Come on. Let’s get a drink.”

Ty reluctantly followed as a feeling of unease started to grow inside him. He knew what the underground fight circuit looked like, and parts of this certainly matched it. But other parts didn’t. Morgan for one. She didn’t seem the type for bloodlust.

Her friends were another. Illegal fights usually had a lot more security. Big scary types. Not one jovial guy posted at the door. In fact, everyone inside this place seemed to be laughing and having a good time. The feeling was more social event than gritty death match.

That and usually underground fight clubs didn’t have a concession stand.

Morgan stepped up to the window and ordered two beers and a boat of nachos. Ty took the frost-covered bottle Morgan held out to him.

“Classy place,” he said.

“Only the best for my baby.” She waved the large paper container filled with tortilla chips, gold liquid cheese and jalapeño rounds under his nose.

He took one of the chips and popped it into his mouth.

“I thought I was your
plus one
.”

Morgan’s head fell back a little as she laughed. It was a light sound, full of joy, without a hint of mockery, but loud enough to turn a few heads their way.

“And here I thought you’d be offended by the whole
virgin
thing.”

He closed the gap between them in a single step. “Trust me. No one has ever mistaken me for a virgin.”

She rolled her eyes, but Ty spotted a hint of pink blossoming in her cheeks. Heat that had nothing to do with exasperation.

He didn’t get to see it for long. A second later, she turned away and started toward the nearest bleachers. She went up a couple of rows before sitting near the aisle. Ty sat next to her. The material of her dress crinkled as her leg brushed against his.

“So is this legal?”

“The nachos?” She looked down at the cheese volcano in her hands. “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be.”