Page 101 of The Last Morgan
He carried her back through the storm, both of them laughing and kissing like teenagers.
Back inside, dripping and exhilarated, they headed straight to her room. Byron disappeared into the bathroom first, grabbing towels.
Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, smiling like an idiot. Her whole body hummed with satisfaction and aching heat.
Byron came back, tossed her a towel, and started stripping off his wet clothes without an ounce of shame.
Lucy watched, admiring the way the water slid down the ridges of his abs, the strong line of his shoulders, the way he moved like a predator at ease.
"Like what you see?" he teased, catching her stare.
She smirked. "Maybe."
He dropped the towel around her shoulders, leaned down, and kissed her forehead.
"We’ve got a little time before Barnaby calls us," he murmured. "And I’m not done with you yet."
Lucy laughed, pulling him down onto the bed.
Outside, the storm raged on.
But inside, there was only fire.
Barnaby and Corey made their way upstairs, heading toward Barnaby’s quarters tucked neatly into the east wing of the house.
As soon as they entered, Barnaby kicked the door shut with his foot and practically dove onto his desk. His laptop was already humming with energy as he plugged in the tiny key and began scanning the code etched into its side.
Corey leaned against the door, arms crossed. "Well, genius? What’s the verdict?"
Barnaby’s eyes flicked over the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard. "Okay, so this key is definitely for a safety deposit box," he confirmed, excitement thick in his voice. "It shouldn’t be hard to find out which bank."
He zoomed in on the engraved numbers and letters.
"There’s a partial code here—most banks have unique identifiers. I suppose the easiest thing to do would be to callall the banks local to us and run this code by them. Old-school. Tedious. But faster than hacking into their systems."
Corey raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me you’re not about to hack into federal bank systems."
Barnaby gave him an exaggeratedly innocent look. "Moi? Never." He shook his head at the accusation and handed him a burner phone. "Start calling."
It took less time than they expected. After three grumpy managers, a threatening hang-up, and one overly chatty bank teller who demanded Barnaby spell the code out twice, they struck gold.
"It’s here," Barnaby said, slapping the desk in victory. "At Marpo Bank."
Corey’s face darkened. "The same damn bank where we started?"
Barnaby nodded. "Back to the beginning." Without hesitation, they headed downstairs toward the kitchen.
Corey checked his watch. 11:30 AM. He sent out a text to everyone, ‘Kitchen, now!’
Lucy came first, her hair a little messy from rushing. Damien followed, stretching his arms. Byron didn’t appear immediately — he was still finishing his shower upstairs.
Barnaby bounced on his heels; laptop hugged to his chest. "Okay," he announced once enough of them were gathered. "We have our location. The key belongs to a deposit box at Marpo Bank."
Lucy’s heart pounded. Full circle. It felt almost too perfect — and in her experience, perfect usually meant trouble.
Corey stepped forward. "We can go now if you want."
Lucy didn’t hesitate. "Of course. Why would we wait?"
