Page 16 of Redeeming Rabbit

“Then she’s not a wife, she’s a widow. Up for grabs. You should introduce us.” The woman on his screen couldn’t hold a candle to Elenore, but I’d learned long ago that when I wanted to find out how a man felt about a woman, all I had to do was express interest in her.

Morse held my gaze, and his eyes hardened. “Fuck you, Rabbit.”

“That’s what I thought. Creepin’ on the friend’s widow. Gross.”

He stood and eyed his watch. “I have a meeting with Link soon. Is there a reason you’re here?”

I could press him for more information about the mystery woman, but that wasn’t why I was here. My gaze shot to the wall of screens displaying the security feeds Morse and his team monitored. It took me a moment to pinpoint the hallway outside Elenore’s door, but I found it. The door looked every bit as secure as it had last night. “Any updates on the Parker case?”

Morse followed my gaze. I could almost see the wheels spinning in that massive brain of his as he decided how much to tell me. I got why he hesitated—I’d resisted responsibilities like a motherfucker—but this wasn’t about me. It was about Elenore. I fucking cared about her safety, and I’d become emotionally invested in Matt Parker’s demise. Besides, Link had personally selected me for the away team on Mission Spring Tina from Her Sister’s Apartment. I had every right to be kept in the loop.

And yet the fucker pressed his lips together, unwilling to tell me shit.

“Link know about the widow you’re perving on?” I snapped.

Morse jerked his head around to face me, denial forming on his lips.

“Don’t pretend that’s not what you were doing. You were so focused on her that you didn’t even hear me enter. Obsessed much, brother?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped back. “It’s not like I’m sending drones into her house to raid her panty drawer or something. Besides, when the fuck did you grow principles? Before or after you stashed your keys in Elenore’s apartment? You didn’t fool a soul with that bullshit.”

“Good, because fooling people wasn’t my intention. She knows I left them on purpose. Unlike you, I came clean. Now, bring me up to speed on the Parker case unless you want Link to find out about your little stalker session.”

“Jesus, Rabbit. I was planning to tell you. You don’t have to fucking blackmail me.”

“You hesitated.”

“Yeah, because I was trying to decide if sending you out there alone is safe.”

I wanted to tell Morse right where he could go, but recent events proved he had a point. Besides, pissing him off would only be counterproductive. Swallowing back the insult, I asked, “Out where?”

He sighed in resignation, leaning a hip against his desk and folding his arms. “Elenore’s. Matt’s been spotted cruising around her parking garage.”

“Fuck. Is she okay?”

The idea of that bastard hurting her sent panic racing through my veins. My previous exhaustion melted away as concern sent a shot of adrenaline straight into my bloodstream. Steadying myself under the rush, I tap, tap, tapped the wall.

I’m home. I’m safe. I’m okay.

Morse eyed me thoughtfully. “She’s fine. He hasn’t approached her building.”

Realization hit me. “He’s looking for Tina’s car.” I searched the wall of monitors until I found the feed covering our side parking lot. Tap had positioned the vehicle where it could be easily seen from the street. We wanted Matt to locate it. “Were there any trackers on it?”

“Not that we could find.”

Which meant no. Tap and Morse were thorough. “Can we draw him a map to it? Put up a fuckin’ neon sign?” The sooner Matt learned Tina had a club of bikers helping her, the less likely Elenore was to encounter the bastard sniffing around her place.

Morse scratched his chin. “There might be something I can do. Let me think about it. I was planning to call Elenore to warn her, but if you can manage it, she might appreciate an in-person update instead.”

I stared at him. “Are you fucking with me?”

He had to be. Morse knew everything that went on in this club, and there was no way he hadn’t heard about my freak-out from this morning. The club was on a quest to improve the community’s view of veterans. We wanted to help all the vets we could, and proceeds from the bar and auto shop only went so far. We needed donations. But not one of us was comfortable asking for handouts. So, we serve. Programs like our anti-bullying campaign for underprivileged preschools have given us the opportunity to show that we’re real fucking human beings. Our time in the service may have fucked some of us up, but we’re still here, wondering why we survived. As I’d proven this morning, I was one of civilian society’s rejects. I wasn’t even sure where my bike was. Did my ass really belong off club grounds?

“You went back to talk to Elenore,” Morse replied as if that somehow answered my question.

“I did.”

“Why?”

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