Page 41 of Decoding Morse

Then I spotted the patch on the front, and all the warm fuzzies fled the building.

“Who’s Angel?”

What the fuck?

Was I making off with some club girl’s vest? I didn’t know how I felt about that.

Morse looked away and cleared his throat. “I had to come up with a nickname since I couldn’t exactly disguise you with your name on the cut.”

He’d chosen the name for me? “But… Angel?”

“Yep. It fits.”

How?

I wanted to ask, but Morse spun around, clearly finished with his explanation. Jed watched us like he had no idea what to make of the situation.

Same, buddy. Same.

Morse passed me a motorcycle helmet with a visor and asked, “You okay to ride?”

Was I? Someone had broken into my house, and now I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a disguise to go to the doctor. Nope. Definitely not okay. “I’m good enough to fake it.”

He looked me over, assessing my tenuous well-being. “All right. Let’s head out.”

The last time I’d been on the back of a motorcycle was the day I’d dropped out of college and flipped both middle fingers at my parents and the plans they’d fashioned for my life. Young, stupid, and carefree, I was Seattle-bound with only the clotheson my back and the bad boy biker I’d foolishly believed to be my soulmate. Our love affair hadn’t panned out, but man, I’d fallen head over heels for his Harley.

Sliding behind Morse sent that familiar thrill of danger skittering up my spine. My hands encircled his midsection, and we both hissed out a breath. He was so… warm. And hard. Even through his biker vest and jacket, I could feel the lines of his abs. My fingers itched to explore, but I planted them firmly against his torso, determined not to be a creep.

He's just giving me a ride.

Not the wisest thought since it invoked ideas for additional rides I’d like this biker to give me. Rich leather and sandalwood invaded my senses and heated my blood, making all my lady bits clench.

Then he started up the bike.

The heavy vibration against my already stimulated core made me bite back a curse and wonder what the hell was wrong with me. We headed out, and I forced myself to relax and admire the masterful way he handled the motorcycle. Despite the forecast, rain drizzled as we headed south on I-5, but I stayed warm, pressed against him like I was, and dressed in the gear he’d thoughtfully provided. He parked in front of the strip mall that housed my doctor’s small practice, and Jed pulled in beside us.

Slipping my hands free of Morse’s torso, I moved to get off the bike, but he grabbed my leg, holding me in place as he ripped off his helmet and scanned the area, a stark reminder that we needed to be on high alert. A shudder tip-toed up my spine as I looked west toward my house as if I could see through the one-and-a-half miles of buildings and trees that separated us. I wanted to go there myself and ensure my home was okay, but that would only put a bullseye on my head and further endanger my escort. My chest started to tighten again at the thought, butwe didn’t have time for that shit, so I forced myself to breathe through it and settle down.

Jed took over the task of scanning the parking lot and nearby structures as Morse offered me his arm and followed me off the bike. When he reached for my helmet, I grabbed his hands.

“The wig,” I whispered.

He nodded. “The hood of the jacket should keep it in place but hold the ends.”

I twisted my fingers around the locks and held on tight as he carefully yanked the helmet free and tucked it under an arm before discreetly straightening the wig and brushing a stray curl back. His attention and proximity made my heart race, even though his determined gaze didn’t once find mine. We headed into the small practice. The waiting room was empty except for a purple-haired mother on her phone and a young boy playing with a set of blocks. After I checked in, Morse marched us to two empty seats on the opposite side of the space, plucked his cell phone from his pocket, and began texting.

Sitting beside him, I peered at the frosted glass door that led to the parking lot. “Is Jed waiting outside?”

“Yes.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yes. Havoc and Eagle have eyes on him.” He slid his phone back into his pocket and swept the waiting room with his gaze.

I sat back in my chair, wincing at the fire that raced down my leg as I tried to get comfortable. Since I didn’t have a phone to distract myself, and Morse currently couldn’t escape, I tried striking up a conversation.

“How did it go with Carol?”

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