Page 39 of Decoding Morse

It wasn’t a good morning.

Seeming not to notice my lack of response, he marched to a locker and removed a large paper bag. Handing it to me, he quickly scanned my body, and his eyes darkened. I fought the thrill that shot up my spine, both proud and ashamed of the effort I’d put into today’s look. Thia had insisted I wear her red and black sweater that fit more snuggly than I was used to, a pair of butt-lifting jeans I’d purchased off some social media app, and knee-high black boots that didn’t have a heel and hopefully wouldn’t kill my leg. She’d even done my hair and makeup, completing a look she titledKnock a Biker Dead. Judging by his pained expression, my friend had hit her mark.

Morse bit off a curse and looked away.

This wasn’t the reaction I’d been aiming for, but I was determined not to read too much into it. I focused on the young man beside him as Morse made introductions.

“Prospect?” I asked, shifting the bag to shake the guy’s hand.

“Yes, ma’am, but you can call me Jed. When we’re not in the club, that is.” His grip was firm, his smile easy, and he held my gaze as he spoke. I liked him instantly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jed.”

“Prospect will come with us today.” Morse’s eyes narrowed at Jed for a fraction of a second before he faced me, still avoiding my eyes. “Did you eat yet?”

“No. I don’t eat breakfast anymore.”

Intermittent fasting was what the health gurus called it, but he didn’t need to know the particulars of my battle with the bulge. I’d tried everything from outlawing carbs to eating pinecones and tree moss, but so far, my broken metabolism was proving unfixable. The joys of being in my forties.

Morse gestured at the bag I was still holding onto. “Go ahead and open that up.”

Hoping he wasn’t offering me anything that would tempt my current no-carbs-until-after-fiber-and-protein rule, I peered inside, rifling through the contents. A rain suit, a leather vest, a dark blonde wig, and a pair of gloves.

“Uh… thanks?”

“It’s a disguise,” he explained. “Not a perfect one, but with limited time, it was the best I could come up with. It’ll alter your appearance enough without drawing suspicion as long as you keep your eyes down and avoid cameras.”

While Thia had been gussying me up, he’d been working out how to conceal me. Awesome. So much for the forty-five minutes we’d spent blow-drying and fixing my hair.

I tugged the wig out of the bag and stared it down. Several shades lighter than my own hair color with beach waves, it was pretty but not attention-grabbing. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

“Absolutely. Someone could’ve hacked into your doctor’s office’s files and pulled your appointment information.”

I stared at him. “People can do that?”

“I can.”

“But it’s illegal.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “Laws don’t mean shit to assassins.”

He had a point, but I wasn’t yet ready to concede.

“They’d have to know which doctor I go to, though. Right?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “However, that might not be the hurdle you think it is. Someone broke into your house late last night.”

“Wait. What?” More importantly, why was I just hearing about it now?

“We called the cops,” he assured me. “They chased off the intruder, and we secured the premises, but we have no way of knowing what information they got their hands on before the authorities showed up. Doctor bill, appointment reminder postcard, people leave that sort of shit lying around all the time.”

Ileft shit like that lying around. Had I this time? “H-How did you know about the break-in?”

“We installed exterior cameras to monitor the entrances.”

Yet he’d neglected to ask me for permission. I would have given it to him, but shouldn’t he have at least asked?

Someone broke into my house.

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