“Do you normally stay at a hotel when you’re here?” he asked.
“Yes. I stay for a night or two because I’m never sure how long the job will take.”
“Then let’s go to the hotel and wait for the call there. You said it could take an hour or more. There’s no reason to wait here, is there?”
Morgan tossed down a pair of work gloves she had been strangling and flexed her fingers. “Everything looks okay here. I guess there’s no harm in getting our rooms for the night.”
Liam nearly smiled at the way she emphasized rooms, as if he were assuming they were bunking together. And with that simple thought, he remembered how he had left her last night. Suddenly, it was as if he was transported back with her butted up next to him as he fed her pie in her quiet room where the bratva never existed.
“Are you coming?” Morgan called from the driver’s side of the truck.
Liam silently cursed and scrubbed the images from his mind. He had no business thinking of Morgan in any way except as a temporary coworker. His only excuse was he hadn’t seen anyone since he’d booted his designing ex-girlfriend out of his life six months ago. Morgan was just a mirage fabricated by long-unsatisfied needs.
He wouldn’t think any more about it.
Instead, he gathered the bags still out on the driveway and tossed them into the back of the pickup.
* * *
Morgan paid for the two rooms and handed Liam his keycard. He had argued with her about letting him pay instead of her. Why would he think he should pay for the hotel when it was her expense and her problem?
“Our rooms are next to each other,” she said.
“Why don’t we put our bags in the rooms and then grab lunch. We still have time.”
Morgan had no appetite. She never ate more than a few bites until she was finally safe at home. “I’ll skip lunch. Maybe later.”
Liam studied her for the briefest of moments and then nodded. “Go and rest. I’ll get lunch and bring you back something.”
“I really don’t —”
“Not even a smoothie? I saw your garbage can at work.” The barest of grins formed, and she had a hard time not noticing how it made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “It was overflowing with smoothie cups.”
Did he have to notice everything? It was no secret that Morgan loved smoothies and normally substituted them for meals. But he seemed to catch everything, even the insignificant. It made her wonder what he’d noticed at her house. Did he notice . . . oh, God! Snippets of the night were coming back to her. He’d fed her pie. On her bed! Her pants were off!
Greer!
It was Greer who kept topping off her wine.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking behind him. “Did you see someone? Is your contact here?”
“No.” Morgan shook her head. “I just had a thought. It was nothing.”
“You must be overtired. Let’s get you to your room.”
“I’ll be fine. Go get lunch.”
“I’ll stay with you. Lunch can wait.”
Morgan took her bag from Liam. “Go. I’ll see you later.”
As Morgan walked through the faded lobby to the elevator, she could sense Liam’s watchful gaze follow her. But when she stepped into the elevator and turned around, he was gone, leaving her feeling very much on her own.
She had to admit, Liam wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t trying to take over her office. The fact that he was here to help not only his friend, but her, was nice.
After exiting the elevator on the third floor, Morgan made her way to the room. It was the same room she always stayed in. The hotel, while older and in a rundown part of town, was still comfortable. Even though the building showed its wear, the bedding was maintained. Besides returning home safely, all Morgan really cared about was a clean, comfortable bed after a stressful day.
Morgan slipped the keycard into the lock and opened the door. She tossed the bag into a corner and was about to collapse on the bed when she noticed a man sitting at the small round table near the shaded window.
“You brought help,” Dmitri accused, his accent thick. A gun rested on his lap with his tattooed fingers curled securely around it. “That was unwise.”
Chapter 10
Liam didn’t mean to take so long getting lunch. Bethany had called him with issues. Mainly just one: Trace. But it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be sorted out with a few calls to his department heads. He wouldn’t give up on Trace, not now. Liam saw potential in his younger brother. If it wasn’t for his trust-fund-baby mentality, Trace would have already recognized how smart he was.
Everything came easy to Trace. That was the case until Dad split with Trace’s mother and left Trace’s funds in Liam’s hands. Dad gave up on Trace. Liam would not. He hired Trace and put him to work. It quickly became apparent that his current skill set included sleeping, eating, flirting, and mucking up every job assignment that was given to him.
It was a ruse.
Trace wanted Liam to give up on him as well. He wanted a superficial existence filled with fancy cars, clothes, and women who only cared about what trinkets he gave them as a parting gift.
Liam saw through his attempts at sabotage.
No matter how many headaches Trace inflicted, Liam was ten times more determined. Pure determination was the only thing that got him to where he was today; that, and a need to separate himself from his father. No matter how nicely his own trust fund would have helped, he wouldn’t take a dime from the man. What Liam had today was from his own hard work. He wanted the same for Trace. And now that Trace was no longer under the thumb of their father, he could become something more than the lazy drifter he currently aspired to be.
But that was something to think about later. Right now, he had to get back to Morgan. After lunch, the calls, and then tracking down a smoothie place, he had been gone nearly an hour. Since he had her truck, he wasn’t worried about her leaving without him. But he was worried for her safety. She seemed determined to carry every burden on her shoulders. If she had an opportunity to maneuver without him, she’d take it.
As soon as he reached the hotel, he dropped his bag in his room and knocked on the adjoining door.
No answer.
He knocked again. The first wave of concern caught him by the throat. When there was no answer again, he pressed his ear to the door, straining for sounds of movement.
Nothing.
While Liam didn’t want to jump to conclusions, they came at him anyway. He should’ve never left her. What in the hell was he thinking?
He wasn’t. That was the problem. Liam was in way over his head and clearly not qualified to handle this type of situation. Reed should be here. Even without his FBI badge, he was still more effective than Liam. And why had Reed asked for his help in the first place? Surely he had to have at least one friend left at the FBI that would aid him.
It was because of Sonya. There was something that Reed wasn’t telling him.
Liam knocked again, hoping Morgan had been in the bathroom and he could resume breathing.
Nothing.
Liam immediately pulled out his phone and called Morgan. Voicemail.
She was probably just stretching her legs. Briefly, he thought she might walk to the storage unit, but it was too far of a distance, even for a determined Morgan.
Did the hotel have a pool? While he couldn’t see her abandoning her nerves to take a dip, she might be there. Water always had a calming effect.
Liam hurried to the lobby, reading signs along the way. If there was a pool, there was no mention of it. Instead of wasting time in a possibly futile search, he headed to the front desk.
“Did the woman I’m travelling with happen to pass by?” Liam asked.
The young front desk attendant barely looked up from his computer. “About ten minutes ago.”
“Do you know where she went? Is there a pool here?”
He shook his head. “No pool. I’m not sure where she went, but she didn’t seem happ
y.”
That wasn’t surprising. Morgan never looked happy. Maybe she went outside to get air and he somehow missed her. Liam was just about to head through the automatic doors when the attendant stopped him.
“You won’t find her out there. She drove away with a large dude.”
A large dude? Did the bratva come for her instead of calling? Or did she leave with Remy? “Do you know who he was?”
“Never seen him before. Ms. Brennan always travels alone.” The younger man finally looked up from the computer and shrugged. “Until today.”
Liam had been about to ask for more details, but the attendant’s nose was directed back at the computer, making Liam suspect the man didn’t see much of anything. Would it matter if he had? Even if he could point Liam in the direction they had gone or described what the man looked like, would it help? Again, he thought of his lacking skill set to handle this situation. His mind wasn’t geared for this. He wasn’t trained for this. He didn’t have a gun and wouldn’t know how to shoot one even if he did. Liam could tell a person how to read a pie chart or the melting point of iron, but saving a person from the Russian mafia?
He had to get in touch with Reed. He’d know what to do. But after dialing his number, Liam found Reed was out of his reach. The number was out of service.
With a curse, he shoved his phone into his pocket. He was going to strangle the bastard next time he showed his face.
When would he learn not to trust Reed?
If Liam wanted to help Morgan, he had to begin by thinking like the bratva. It was the one skill he could use. Sales came easily to him because he could always put himself in the other person’s shoes and come up with ideas and solutions for their projects. He satisfied their needs before they knew they had them.
Normally he had time for research, but that wouldn’t be the case today. If the bratva wanted a job done, Morgan would need equipment. He had to get to the storage unit. But even as he jogged to the truck, in the back of his conscious he knew Morgan wouldn’t need welding tools. If the bratva was escorting Morgan off the premises, it wasn’t for her trade, it was to kill her. They wouldn’t have changed their routine otherwise.
* * *
Morgan was in trouble. Her heart repeatedly crashed against her chest as she was led through a lavishly decorated mansion. Dmitri had never brought her here before. He was always careful to make sure she had next to no information. Knowing the location of the Ivankov family was way too much information.
They wouldn’t bring her here to kill her, would they? The cleanup would be terrible . . . although the floors were marble. Easy enough to mop away the evidence. Morgan looked at the gray marble with new horror. How many victims’ blood had been spilled on this floor alone? And how many of those victims did she weld into their permanent, everlasting homes? It sickened her. She looked at her surroundings with new disgust. She would not be a part of this anymore. But with each step she took, she knew it was out of her hands. They didn’t want her to be a part of their empire. They wanted her dead.
As she was lead into a room, she had the first visual of her demise.
“Welcome, Ms. Brennan.” A woman stood behind a massive mahogany desk. Her hair, a deep chestnut, was tossed over one shoulder, accentuating the sleek lines of her frame. “I’m Sonya Ivankov, your new employer.” While her words weren’t thickly accented like Dmitri’s, they held all of the same malice.
Sonya’s informative words were not lost on Morgan. New employer? Did that mean they weren’t going to kill her? Something was wrong. The instinct to run was strong and pounding in her gut. Sonya was as beautiful as she was deadly.
Sonya walked around the desk, slowly and deliberately, studying Morgan with each fluid movement. She stepped so close that Morgan she could smell Sonya’s subtle orchid perfume. Morgan tried to back away but was blocked by Dmitri.
With all personal space now diminished to a few inches, Sonya spoke. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, but I think you know that by now. You were warned not to tell anyone of our arrangements, and yet you brought someone with you.”
“He followed. I couldn’t —”
“Liam is handsome.” Sonya traced her finger along Morgan’s jaw, tilting her head. “But he knows too much. Always did stick his nose where it didn’t belong.”
Always? That sounded as if there was history between the two. But wouldn’t Liam have told her if that was the case? “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Doesn’t he?” Sonya’s finger descended to Morgan’s throat, marking her with the scrape of her fingernail. “He’s working for Reed.”
Morgan swallowed. “I don’t know Reed. I barely know Liam.”
“You brought them here.”
Morgan brought them here? But only Liam followed her. She had no idea who Reed was, other than Liam’s FBI friend. And unless the grumpy pilot was Reed, he wasn’t on the plane. But it was no use trying to talk to this woman. With the first scrape of Sonya’s nails against her skin, Morgan knew this was a woman who loved to inflict pain. Just like her father. Visions of the mutilated bodies crammed into metal boxes struck her anew. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them. And every time she sealed the boxes, a piece of her soul became trapped with the victim.
Morgan wasn’t going to beg. She had known this was the end, and now that death was staring her in the face, she wasn’t going to be weak. The more fear they sensed, the more they would torture her.
She just wished her life didn’t have to end so soon. There were so many things she wanted to do. So many people she wanted to hug one last time.
The business would be left to Grandpa to sort out. For a brief moment she had been happy that Liam would be around to help Grandpa, but now that was gone too. As long as Liam wasn’t caught, he’d go back to his business, whatever that was.
“Such sadness,” Sonya purred. “Tears even.” Her finger traced the damp trail down Morgan’s face. Before Morgan could pull away, Sonya left her side and sat at her desk. “You say you don’t know who Reed is, yet you know Liam.”
“I’ve only just met Liam.”
“But you’ve heard of Reed?”
“Liam mentioned him, but I don’t know him.”
Sonya pondered thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “I never understood why my father kept you around. I always told him it’d be his downfall. Why bring outsiders in when I can have one of my men do the work? But, he seemed to think your family’s work was the best. Never in all the years has one of the bodies been found.” She crossed her legs and settled back into the chair. “I tried once. Had Marik weld instead of bringing you out. Let’s just say, you obviously know what you’re doing.” She sighed and flicked a bit of flint off her black pencil skirt. “I have one last job for you.”
“I won’t do it.”
“You don’t have a choice.” With a casual flick of her hand, Morgan was hauled away by Dmitri. “Oh, Dmitri, make sure someone picks up Liam Hayes. We can’t have him wandering our city alone, can we?” Sonya’s cold laugh filled Morgan’s ears.
Oh God, was Liam the last job?
* * *
Liam tossed open the storage door. All the equipment was still there, untouched. Even Morgan’s strangled gloves sat in the same spot.
If she hadn’t come back to retrieve her tools, then the situation was as bleak as he thought. They were going to kill her. And now that Reed was unreachable, who did he call for help? The police? Would they be able to help in time? Would they even know where the bratva took her?
No. The police might be able to help, but not in time. So, who could he turn to? Remy. If there was anyone besides Reed who knew what was happening, it might be Remy. He seemed to speak in warnings. And if he knew enough to warn, he might know more.
Liam called Remy but was sent straight to voicemail. He left a message but then remembered Remy said he was going out of town.
Damn it!
Liam grabbed his laptop from the passenger seat and sat on the tailgate
. He flipped it open and connected to the Internet through his cell phone hotspot. Liam searched for anything that would lead him to the bratva.
A call came through. He was about to reject it until he noticed it was Trace.
“I need your help,” Liam said.
“I know,” the lazy, melancholy voice drifted through. “You’ve got Bethany and the department heads breathing down my neck.”
“This is serious.”
“It always is.”
“Just listen. I need you to track down Reed.”
“That guy you used to be best friends with in school? Whatever happened to him?”
There was too much to explain, and he didn’t have time. “Listen carefully. I’m in Vegas, and I’m up against the Russian mafia. Reed is the only the person who can help me right now.”
“Is this a joke? If you’re still mad about —”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
“Um, no. But you’re always snappish. What’s going on?”
“I don’t have time to explain. Use every resource we have and find Reed. Get Bethany involved. Tell Reed they have Morgan. I’m going to search for her, but I have no idea where they might take her.”
“Who’s Morgan?”
“Just find Reed.” Liam knew this wouldn’t make it to the top of Trace’s priority list, even if his brother’s neck was on the line. “Just do this for me and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“I can even quit this lousy job?”
“Yes.”
“And get full access to my trust fund?”
Melting Point Page 8