Page 83 of Decoding Morse

“That’s not necessary. I can sleep there.” I pointed to the short, hard couch beneath the window.

The nurse nodded. “I suggested the sofa, but she insisted. Something about your sciatica giving you fits. I’ll be right back with the bed.”

I was too tired to argue and too grateful for Carol’s undeterred thoughtfulness, so I didn’t even try to stop the nurse.Instead, I wandered over to Sage, still standing sentry at the door.

“Want me to scoot you over a chair or something?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Thank you, but don’t worry about me. I’ll grab one if I need it. Before I forget, I have something for you.” He tugged a phone out of his pocket and passed it to me. “Tap said he’ll get your cell back to you as soon as it’s safe, but in the meantime, he thought you’d want this.”

I accepted the phone, noting two unread messages from Prospect. I clicked on the thread, and two images of Morgan appeared. The first was from about forty-five minutes ago. She stood in a dark hallway beside a glowing vending machine highlighting her face.

In the second image, she was sitting on the lower bunk of a bed with her legs crossed, wearing flannel pajamas with her electronic tablet in her lap.

She was laughing.

It was the opened-mouth, crinkled-eye, bouncing-shoulder laugh I’d rarely seen since her father’s death.

Emotion stung my eyes and throat. A sob bubbled from my freaking soul and burst through the dam holding all my fears and worries at bay. I lost it. The waterworks came next, racking my body with sobs of relief. Despite everything, Morgan was safe. Leaving her had been the right move. I’d made it back in time to be with Carol. Eric had been arrested, and soon, this entire nightmare would end.

But Carol was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Sage draped an arm over my shoulder and tugged me against him. Grateful for his warmth and support, I turned into him and bawled on his shoulder. This virtual stranger patted my back in silent reassurance, letting me cry until my well ran dry.

Feeling empty and exhausted, I pulled away with an apology.

“It’s okay. I’m a professional,” he assured me.

“At having women cry on your shoulder?” I asked.

He quirked a smile that made him look downright adorable. “I’m the club’s therapist.”

“Ah.”

Sage seemed rough around the edges, but his intelligence and compassion were next-level.

He offered me a box of tissues. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

I thanked him and mopped up my face, but my brain had turned to mush. No coherent conversations were in my immediate future. The nurse brought in the bed, and I stripped out of my gear—accepting Sage’s help with the body armor—until I stood in the outfit Morse had bought me. I’d changed into the sturdy black athletic leggings and matching shirt before we’d left Idaho and had been impressed by his choice. It was comfortable, and even the bra and panties fit perfectly, which I still didn’t know how he’d guessed.

With barely veiled excitement, he’d watched me unfold the outfit, making it evident he enjoyed giving gifts. Then again, of course, he did. He’d sent my kids presents as Joe. My head hurt too much to think about that, so I climbed onto the bed, covered up, and promptly passed out.

Carol woke shortly after I did the following day, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears again. I was so relieved.

She took one look at me and groaned. “Wipe that look off your face. Then find the doctor and get me the hell out of here. I want to go home and die in my study, surrounded by books and memories, not here in this concrete prison.”

Her voice was too raspy, her eyes too sunken, and she belonged in the hospital. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d deny her request. I found the doctor and arrangements were made. A few hours later, I climbed into the ambulance besideCarol as Sage, Zombie, and Spade followed on their bikes. According to Sage, Eric had called off the hit and would spend the foreseeable future behind bars, but the bikers insisted on coming with us, just in case.

We reached the house just as the medical bed was being delivered. The paramedics unloaded Carol, who kept drifting in and out of consciousness, as the bikers helped the house staff clear most of the furniture out of the study so the delivery team could set up the bed.

Shortly after Carol was situated, Thia showed up. Carol’s housekeeper, Jenny, and I headed to the front to let her in. Tires screeched to a stop outside. When I threw open the door, she’d parked in the circular driveway directly in front of the walk. Spotting me, she left her car door wide open and dashed forward to tackle me in a hug. I stepped onto the porch and braced for impact because this wasn’t my first rodeo. She stopped a breath from slamming into me because she was thoughtful and wrapped me in a firm hug.

“You’re okay!”

“Perfectly fine,” I confirmed.

She released me and stepped back, looking me over as she wiped tears from her eyes. Movement drew my attention. The bikers had popped out of their hiding places and watched us from the front of the first garage.

“And you three!” Thia said, stabbing her finger in their general direction and letting her body follow. “Why didn’t you tell me my friend here was in danger? I know you all know who I am and where to find me.”

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