Page 22 of Decoding Morse

No, this was something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

His jaw twitched, and I got the craziest feeling he wanted to kiss me.

Insane.

Right?

It was one thing for him to check me out, but this….

“You need anything, you come out into this hallway and wave to get the security team’s attention. Someone will come help you.”

Dragging my gaze from his lips to take in the sign that the hallway was being monitored, I nodded. “Someone?”

“Someone I trust. Someone you can trust, too.”

But it wouldn’t be him. Disappointment sat like a boulder in my gut.

“Goodnight, Amelia.” He suddenly spun and fled for the stairs.

I stared at his retreating back until it disappeared, waiting for… what, exactly?

Seriously, what the fuck?

Did you honestly believe he was into you, Amelia?

When I turned, Thia watched me from the door, her expression reflecting my own confusion.

“Uh… what was that?” Her finger waggled between me and the now-empty hallway.

Shrugging, I let out a chuckle even as heat singed my eyes. Blinking back tears, I let Thia usher me out of the middle of the hallway and back through our door.

She turned, giving me her full attention. “What’s going on?”

Glancing at my sleeping daughter, I said, “Not here.”

“We can go next door.”

“And leave her here alone?”

We locked Morgan’s door and slipped into the next room, keeping the door propped open so we could hear anyone in the hallway. I didn’t honestly believe all that was necessary, but this was my kid. I trusted Morse, but I didn’t know the rest of these bikers.

Thia leaned against the wall of the narrow entryway and let out a breath, cocking both eyebrows.

I mirrored her posture, facing her, and started with the easier of the two topics to discuss, which said a lot about my current state. “There’s no mistake. Someone legitimately wants me dead.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? Who? How do you know for sure?”

“Morse took me into a conference room where a handful of bikers explained the threat and showed me the posting. All myinformation was listed, Thia. Everything. My freaking weight is now public biker knowledge.”

Of course, Morse had been there to see it. Freaking humiliating. And probably not what I needed to focus on.

She gasped in much-deserved horror. “Your real weight, or the fictional number you put on your driver’s license?”

At my look of outrage, she held up her hands. “Everyone does it. I’m not judging.”

“It’s called a goal, and yes. That one.”

“At least it’s not your actual.”

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