Page 14 of Decoding Morse

“Yeah, you said that,” Thia replied. “Are we supposed to be impressed?”

“You expect my teenage daughter to stay with a motorcycle gang?” I added.

“Not a gang, a club. And yes. We’re all veterans.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better. You forget. I’ve spent my entire life around military men. The only difference between vets and recruits is that vets usually have a little more game and are faster at getting women into bed.” I babbled when nervous, and this was one stressful situation. “Granted, not always. And not all of them respect the word ‘no’….”

Fire ignited in his eyes as he took one step toward us and cut me off. “These vets will. Nobody will touch any of you. I can fucking promise you that.”

The vehemence in his tone made me want to step back. But strangely, it also made me want to lean forward. I hadn’t felt protected since Ted died, and there was something about it that made every cell in my body stand at attention. His gaze lingered on me, and his jaw ticked.

Thia still looked less than impressed. “Okay. So, you expect the three of us to entrust our virtues to a gang of horny veterans?”

“Not a gang, a club.” Frustration tinted Morse’s tone as he raked a hand through his short hair and returned his gaze to me. “These guys... that shit doesn’t fly around here. My brothers fiercely enforce consent. They won’t mess with any of you, but especially not Morgan. They know what I owe you and Ted.”

He made us sound like saints.

“Ted was a recruiter. He was doing his job.”

Morse stepped forward, reaching for me. I wanted him to grab my shoulders again, but thankfully, he stopped shy of touching me. His gaze captured mine, and the intensity in his steel-blue eyes snatched my breath away.

“The Air Force didn’t send me bus fare. They didn’t doctor my leg or house me for months while I got my GED. That was all you two. You cared for me—for a guy you didn’t even know—because it was the right thing to do. You showed me that decent people do exist in this world. That club... the Dead Presidents... it’s full of people just like you. I swear to you there’s nowhere safer. We won’t let anything happen to you or your daughter.”

Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe?

“Cool speech, bro, but what about me?” Thia asked, hand on her hip, the image of indignant.

His lips quirked. “Or Thia. My brothers may be a little rough around the edges, but they’re upstanding guys. I’ve vetted every last one of them myself, and I’m damn good at what I do.”

“Modest, too,” Thia said, though I could tell he was winning her over.

“Most modesty is bullshit. I’ve always preferred honesty, myself.” Ducking his head, he took a step back and waved us forward. “Come on. I’ll show you around. Then we’ll have some of my brothers lug your stuff to your rooms.”

The moment he turned his back, Thia elbowed me in the side and mouthed, “What the hell is going on between you two?”

Since I had no clue how to answer that, I pretended I couldn’t read her lips.

We freed Bailey from her kennel and half led, half dragged her toward the door. Along the way, I realized the booms growing steadily louder as we approached the building were actually bass.

“Is that music?” Morgan asked.

Morse’s expression turned apologetic. “Yeah. We’re having a little get-together tonight.”

“A biker party at the safe house,” Thia grumbled. “Nothing to worry about here.”

Despite our valid reservations, Morgan confidently followed Morse. We had no choice but to fall in line, partly because we wouldn’t let her go in alone and partly because we didn’t want to be left in the parking lot. Morse introduced Zombie and Brick, the two sketchy bikers smoking outside the door. Neither ogled us. Instead, they behaved like perfect gentlemen, spouting off with more of that ‘ma’am’ nonsense until Thia threatened physical violence if they didn’t stop. All in all, she acted more like a biker than they did.

The entrance was well-lit, giving us an illuminated view into the hallway beyond. We were really doing this. I grabbed Thia’shand, leaning my shoulder against hers. “Thank you. For being here with me.”

“Oh, honey, friends do not let friends flee for their lives to a biker den alone. Ride or die, baby.”

“Maybe not the best slogan for this adventure.”

She chuckled and bumped me off her shoulder. “It’s perfect, and you know it.”

Morse led us into the hallway, and the music grew significantly louder. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “I’m sorry about the noi—.” He stopped and stared at me.

I was singing along with the music. It was AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.” How could I not? The song was a classic. But his expression had my heart stumbling between beats.

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