Page 27 of Decoding Morse

He smirked. “This isn’t for entertainment; it’s duty. I’m doing this for the good of the club.”

“Oh?” I had to hear this. “How very selfless of you.”

“Fuckin’ A. It’s just that the way you keep eyes on everyone got me thinking… who’s watching you? Someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“And you appointed yourself to this task?”

“Hell no. I’m not exactly the big brother type, and I don’t give a single fuck about the shady shit you do, but you know what they say. With great power comes great opportunity.”

I studied him. “That’s not what they say.”

“Yeah? Well, point is, you can keep all your clandestine operations to yourself, but I’m gonna need a little favor in return.”

“Jesus, Rabbit. How many times do I have to tell you you don’t have to blackmail me?”

“And let my negotiation skills go to shit? No, thank you.”

While I was trying to figure out how to explain the difference between negotiation and blackmail, he plucked a folded paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and slapped it on my desk. The handwritten name Brandon Trane II stared back at me.

Intrigued, I leaned into the mystery, picking up the paper. “Who’s this?”

“A new investor. He’s been sniffing around Elenore’s company, and after the last dickhead, I need to know if I’m gonna have to hide a body.”

“Fair enough.” I cracked a smile. “Watch yourself. You don’t want people calling you paranoid. That’s my fucking title.”

Rabbit scowled, but there was genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s not paranoia, it’s experience. Rich, entitled assholes tend to forget that investing in her company doesn’t give them access toher.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “Your woman’s on my watchlist, brother. I’ll let you know if there’s ever a hit on her name.” I watched over all my brothers and their ol’ ladies. I’d even added the kids. Why the fuck wouldn’t I? I’d paid for the tech. Might as well keep all the people I cared about safe.

His eyebrows rose, and a genuine smile lit up his face. “Appreciate it.”

I slid into my chair and started an advanced search for Brandon Trane II. Within minutes, I knew everything but the fucker’s blood type, and those results would show up in my inbox soon enough. His personal worth was an astronomical number I couldn’t wrap my brain around, but there were no immediate red flags.

“He looks clean,” I announced, still scanning the results. “Other than a few open parking tickets, Mr. Trane appears to walk the straight and narrow. No sexual assault claims, a couple frivolous lawsuits all settled out of court… we can dive deeper, but I don’t know that it’s necessary.”

Rabbit scratched at his beard. “Is it weird that I’m disappointed?”

“Yes. That’s definitely something you should discuss with Sage.” The club’s shrink would love that.

His manic smile returned. “Will do. Traumatizing that fucker is turning out to be one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Color me surprised.” I stood, stepping toward the door. “Now, if we’re done here….”

“I like her,” he announced, changing the subject.

“Who?”

He rolled his eyes. “Your woman. She has a wicked sense of humor. And she likes Dicks.”

A peculiar list of qualifications, yet exactly what I’d expect from him. Rabbit’s blessing shouldn’t mean shit, yet it did. Still…. “She’s not my woman.”

“Pull your head out of your ass, and she could be.”

No, she couldn’t, but I didn’t bother arguing. “Gee, thanks for the pep talk.” I opened the door, gesturing for him to get the hell out.

Rabbit sauntered past me, chest puffed out as he practically broke his arm patting himself on the back. “No problem. Consider me a walking inspirational poster.”

He was something, all right.

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