Page 30 of Decoding Morse

Levi had been attractive. He was a respectable guy. Observant, a bit awkward, and… sweet, he always jumped to bring in my groceries, help me around the house, and mow the pathetic patch of weeds I called a lawn.

Now Morse… he was something else. All muscles, masculinity, and protective vibes. The leather cut, the beard, and the intensity in his blue eyes were all working for me.

There’s still eight years between you. Look away!

I forced my eyeballs to find Carly. Her gaze flickered from Morse to me, and I braced for a snide comment about my weight, age, or inappropriate leering. She didn’t necessarily give off those vibes, but growing up with critical parents had left its mark.

Carly’s smile seemed genuine and welcoming as she said, “So, Friday night….”

“Thanks for the invitation, but my friend and daughter are with me.”

“Bring them. Your daughter just turned eighteen, right?” At my nod, she said, “Perfect. We meet on the sofas in the common room. Won’t be able to miss us.”

Before I could respond, she slipped away, and Morse’s proximity tugged at my senses.

“Hey,” he said, sidling up to me, his gaze on Carly’s retreating back. “What was that about?”

“I met Trent.”

“Ah. Say no more. That kid’s a menace.”

“Menaces make for great stories.”

His lips twitched. “You have no idea. He’s a bit of a legend around here. Wanna grab a table and chat?”

I glanced around the busy room, noting that we’d have to share whichever table we squeezed ourselves onto. “Actually, is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

11

Morse

AMELIA WANTED TO be alone with me.

A flash of panic shot through my system, my heart tha-thunking in a stuttered beat.

No big deal. I could fucking handle this. Forget that the last time we’d been alone, I’d all but come in my pants. What was it about this woman that caught my goddamn blood on fire?

Being alone with her was dangerous. I needed a plan.

Taking her back to the surveillance room was out of the question. The wall of monitors was a bit too much for the average civilian to take, and the last thing we needed was for her to freak out. We were like our own island of misfit toys here, and she didn’t belong in our ranks. She was normal. Functional. Perfect.

And I’d never stopped thinking about her because I was one sick motherfucker.

By the time I led her down the hall and opened the conference room door, my palms were sweating. I usheredAmelia in, wiping them on my pants like some nervous bastard on a first date.

This is not a date. It’s a meeting. She probably has questions, dumbass.

Her gaze darted to the conference table. “Don’t you have an office?”

“It’s a surveillance room. Not ideal for conversation.”

Nodding her understanding, she drifted to the table. Once again, I kept a chair between us when we sat. If I could have gotten away with it, I’d be on the opposite side of the room. As it was, I had to breathe through my mouth so I could fucking think.

Planting an elbow against the top of the table, she rested her head in her palm and turned to face me. “So, how’ve you been? What have you been up to?”

She wanted to catch up? My chest was so uncomfortably tight it felt like I was having a heart attack, and she wanted my life story. Of course, she did. Unlike most people who asked personal questions, Amelia genuinely gave a shit. Not for personal gain, accolades, or some distorted sense of superiority like some phony Samaritan, but because she legitimately cared about people. A spark of heat and light in an otherwise cold and dark world, this was precisely why she needed to be protected.

Which meant I needed to get my ass out of here and back to work.

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