

Melting Point

By Nicolette Pierce

Published by Nicolette Pierce at Smashwords

_Melting Point_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Nicolette Pierce

Cover design by Lan Gao

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To my readers,

Thank you for following me on another adventure.

**Acknowledgements**

To my friends at the Moraine Writers Guild who gave me great feedback on _Melting Point_ , thank you! A special thank you to Lisa Lickel who helped with Russian wordage and grammar.

Thank you to Lan Gao for a sizzling new book cover.

To Amber Barry, I truly appreciate your hard work editing this book and giving valuable feedback.

For my beta reader, Debbie McKinney, thank you for your time and insight.

And finally, a thank you to Judy Hanson for being the first to look at my work and making sure it was fit for reader eyes.
Books by Nicolette Pierce

Mars Cannon Novels

Deadly Dancing

Predator Patrol

Security Squad

Biker Brigade

Fearsome Foursome

Nadia Wolf Novels

The Big Blind

High Stakes

Cashing Out

Squeeze Play

The Last Tailored Suit

My Traitor

Pocketful of Diamonds

Last Hand

**Metal Girls Trilogy**

Melting Point

Critical Point

Breaking Point

Loved by Reese

When Rio Surrenders

When Rome Falls

When Edinburgh Dreams

When Sydney Loves

When London Calls

Please visit Nicolette on her website at:

www.nicolettepierce.com

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29
Chapter 1

Morgan tore into her office at Brennan Metal Works, flying past the front desk as the receptionist waved at her, attempting to flag her down. She ignored Charlene and headed straight to her father's old filing cabinet.

Morgan worked her fingers madly to locate a file that would shed some light. By the time she slammed the last drawer closed, the only thing she'd gained was a paper cut and a twisted stomach.

Nothing.

There was nothing there. She knew there wouldn't be. Dad never kept a paper trail when he knew it could mean recrimination. If the authorities ever found out . . .

Now, she only had her word.

A fat lot of good that would do.

There had to be a solution. There had to be! The repercussions were too horrible to think about. At the top of the list, followed closely by the closing of the family business and the disappointment of her grandfather, would be serious jail time for her and possibly the rest of the family.

No.

It would be just her. She'd make sure no one else would suffer for her father's work that she alone carried on after his death.

"Morgan?" Her grandfather, Walter, knocked on her open door. "When did you get back? I thought you'd be gone for a day or two more."

"There's been a change." Morgan peered over Walter's shoulder at a man she'd never met before. He was startlingly handsome, which was the only reason she noticed him. He, like all men, were a waste of her time and energy . . . especially now.

The stranger was dressed in a tailored black suit. His dark hair was cut like his suit—perfectly. Mocha-brown eyes studied her from under thick black lashes that highlighted his light skin.

The clash of dark and light was mesmerizing.

"Is something wrong?" Walter asked.

Morgan shook her head, refocusing on her grandfather. He had just reached his eighty-fifth birthday last month. She didn't want to worry him over matters he couldn't control. While his mind was a sharp as ever, his body was fading into a frail thinness.

It scared her.

"Nothing's wrong, Grandpa. I just have a lot on my plate."

"Excellent," Walter said with a knowing smile.

Morgan eyed him. "You normally scold me for working too hard, especially when I leave for Vegas."

"I do," he agreed, turning to the stranger. "She'll work herself into the grave if she doesn't ease up." With a sparkle in his faded blue eyes, he swept back to Morgan. "Which is why I hired Liam Hayes. He's the new manager."

"I'm the manager," Morgan stated.

"You'll have to be co-managers for a while."

"A while? Why? What's going on?" She crossed over to inspect Walter's eyes. "What aren't you telling me? How do you feel?"

He waved off her concerns. "You'll need a manager once you've taken ownership of the business."

Morgan clapped her hand over Walter's forehead. "Are you sick? Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

"I'm going to die," he answered. She could feel a petrified expression form on her face, and he immediately chuckled. "Someday. But not today. You'll need a good support team when I'm gone. I'd like to retire one of these years."

"I don't need support," she said, finding her voice after the lump in her throat gave way to annoyance. Her eyes met Liam's for a moment before she pulled Walter inside the office and snapped the door closed.

"That was rude," Walter said.

"He's not working here!"

"I hired him, so he is."

Morgan didn't want to explain why she didn't want to bring on another employee. They really did need the help, but hiring a manager would be a mistake. He'd want all the account and business information. There were some things that were better kept secret.

"I won't work with him," she said, knowing she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn't explain truthfully either.

"Give me one good reason." He leveled her with a parental stare and stiff upper lip. His combed-back white hair added to his authoritative look.

She couldn't think of one that she could say out loud. And all of the other reasons would be lies that Walter would see through. There was plenty of work and money to hire Liam.

"Can we change his job title?" she asked. "There can't be two managers."

"Is that what you're upset about?" he asked. "Are you afraid he'll try to take over?"

Possibly. But she doubted anyone could take over while she was in charge.

Before she could stop the intrusion, Liam opened the door and walked in. "Sorry to barge in, but I can hear your conversation from the hall."

"You'll have to excuse Morgan," Walter said. "She's been the queen of the hen house these last few years. A new cock in town has her feathers standing on end."

Morgan's mouth hung open, horrified at her grandfather's choice of words. He must have been spending time in the shop again. It was the only explanation.

Liam smirked. "Perhaps she hasn't let the right cock into her hen house yet."

If she could have dropped her jaw any lower, it'd be dragging on the floor. That comment alone would have the boys in the shop on Liam's side instantly. They loved a quick tongue, especially if the jab was directed at her.

The "boys" loved to tease. No one was spared. Morgan gave it right back twofold. But this guy could turn the tables. What was once fun ribbing could turn into a power struggle. Just looking at him had her itching to spar. The fact that Liam was handsome only added to that itch. It irritated her.

But Morgan knew that was his shell. She could tell by the way he held himself so tall and straight that he was guarded. Instinctively she knew this tall, dark, handsome frame held a secret. She supposed she should be afraid. Men with secrets were not to be trusted. But it gave her hope, because men with secrets could be controlled.

She smirked back at him, happy to notice a spark of surprise before his features slid back into place. "The hen house was quite content without a strutting cock."

"Only content?" he drawled. "What a shame."

As their eyes locked, he baited her. What was it about this man? He was so perfectly put together yet guarded. He didn't seem the type to verbally spar. And yet, it was almost instinctive the way his barbed words targeted her.

Before she could respond, her grandfather cleared his throat. "Before you two start a pissing match, let's get down to the particulars." Walter turned to Liam. "I pity you, son. A ballbuster, this one. I wouldn't blame you if you ran out of here by the end of the day."

"It's two o'clock," Liam said. "I think I can manage a couple of hours."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"You should probably leave now," Morgan said, holding the door wide open.

The louse only smiled and sat down in a chair, gesturing for Walter to take a seat as well, which he did. They both looked expectantly at Morgan to do the same.

Just who in the hell did he think he was offering Walter a seat as if he owned the place?

Grudgingly, she let the door swing closed and took her post behind the desk, a barrier to protect the two men staring smugly at her. Within a short time, Walter and Liam had somehow bonded. That did not bode well for her.

"Looks like I'm outnumbered on this, so let's begin."

"Excellent," Walter said. "I knew you'd be reasonable."

She felt anything but reasonable. "Since this was your idea, you might as well start."

"It's quite simple, really. You're overwhelmed with day-to-day operations. Let Liam take over some of those duties."

Morgan turned her gaze to Liam, who looked as if he was categorizing her features. His stare was so intense, she blinked.

"What is your area of expertise?" she asked.

"Everything."

His answer didn't shock her.

"No one is good at everything."

He leaned slightly in. "I am."

Morgan's lips curved. Oh, this was going to be interesting. If the puffed-up man thought he was good at everything, she'd have fun proving him wrong. If she had to work with him, at least there'd be some amusement too.

"I'll leave you two to sort out the particulars," Walter said, standing to leave.

"Before you go," Morgan started, not taking her eyes off Liam, who stared back at her with challenge written across his face, "Where will he work?"

"In here, of course. You know we don't have an extra room."

"I'm sure we could find him a corner somewhere in the main office."

"He'll have to work closely with you for the first month or two."

"I don't think that's necessary," Morgan retorted. "According to Mr. Hayes, he's good at everything."

"Be that as it may, he'll work in here. I'll have another desk installed right away."

Morgan watched as Walter bustled out of the office, calling in his loudest voice for Papa Bear.

"Papa Bear?" Liam questioned.

Morgan ignored his question. "Why do you want this job?"

"I have my reasons and explained them all to Walter."

"I won't be easy to work with."

"Neither will I."

Morgan sat back. "Will it be worth it?"

"I never do anything unless it is."

"Fine," she muttered. He wouldn't be her first choice . . . or any choice, but she did need help. She'd just limit what he helped with. Liam could have sales, while she maintained the work floor and her pile of problems that'd take an eon to sort out—if sorting them was even possible.

"I'll give you sales for now," she said. "The work has been a bit slow these last two weeks. The boys get into mischief if they don't have work orders to keep them busy."

"What else? You said 'for now.'"

"I'll give you the accounting later."

"Why not now?"

"The truth?"

"I expect no less."

"I don't trust you. You can have accounting when I do."

"I suspect that'll be never," Liam said, his gaze cool. "I could just ask Walter."

"Be my guest," she said with a sweep of her arm, gesturing to the door.

His eyes narrowed for a moment. She could feel his assessment as his gaze pierced her.

Why would Walter choose him? Hadn't he bothered to interview other candidates?

Thank goodness she'd come back today. The man would have taken over entirely had she stayed the three days she was supposed to. But she couldn't think about that now, not when Liam was across the desk.

He didn't run to Walter. Instead, he just sat there with a sort of elegant strength that put her on edge. He and his fancy suit had no business being here. This was a metal shop, not a Wall Street corner office.

The door burst open, jarring Morgan from her thoughts.

"Grandpa said you were back," Piper said. "I didn't believe him. You're normally gone for days. Did something happen?"

"Everything is fine, Piper."

The younger woman stopped short, noticing Liam for the first time. She blushed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, turning to leave only to run into Papa Bear, who filled the doorframe with his tall, wide-shouldered stature.

"Walter said you needed a desk in here," Papa Bear said, his voice deep and gravelly.

"She already has a desk," Piper said.

"It's for Liam," Morgan said, gesturing to the newcomer. "Grandpa hired him as a manager."

"But you're the manager," Piper said, confused.

"Now there will be two of us," Morgan replied, stomping down her frustration. "Liam, this is Piper and Papa Bear. He is the floor supervisor."

Liam stood to shake Piper's hand first. "A pleasure," he said before turning to Papa Bear. "I'm glad to meet you. Should I call you Papa Bear too?"

Papa Bear smiled, showing slightly crooked teeth behind his wooly beard. "Everyone does."

"How did you get the name?"

Papa Bear shrugged. "Don't quite know. I've worked here for thirty years. At some point the nickname stuck."

"Thirty years? That's a long time." His eyes flicked over to Morgan. "Especially here."

Papa Bear coughed. "You'll find the way of things pleasant enough. There's not one person working that hasn't been here for ten years or more."

Liam smiled. "That's good to hear. It'll be nice to work with you and your crew."

"You won't be," Morgan said. "The shop is mine."

Liam's eyes cut to her, challenge set in his jaw.

Piper stepped in front of Liam, shooting Morgan a look that said, "Behave."

Oh, what was the use? No one would understand why she didn't want Liam around, beyond his unnerving stance. Only Papa Bear had the smallest hint of where she went for days at a time. But even he didn't know the latest development.

And that was how it was going to stay. Her staff meant too much to her to jeopardize them in any way. They were her family.

"Have you had a tour yet?" Piper asked Liam.

"Not yet," he answered with a charming smile that Morgan was sure Piper felt all the way to her toes. "Would you care to give me one?"

"Of course." She led the way out of the office. "I'll have him back in ten minutes," she called.

"Don't hurry on my account," Morgan responded dryly.

Papa Bear scratched his beard. When they were out of sight, he asked, "How did this happen?"

"Grandpa hired him. I didn't have a say in the matter."

"Walter gives you the run of the place. Why is he bringing this other fella? Did something change?"

Something had changed, but it had nothing to do with the office.

"He thought we needed more help."

"You've been running yourself ragged."

"Yes, but I don't trust Liam."

"Why not?"

Morgan shook her head. "I don't know. It's just a feeling I get. There's something about him. He's not the average office drone. Why would he want to work here? There'd be no advancement for him."

Papa Bear clapped her on the shoulder, stooping slightly to get a good look into her eyes. "Give him a chance. You don't know a man unless you've walked in his shoes. Just guard what you need to and let everything else fall where it may. Don't start a war before you know who you're fighting."

It wasn't a war she was worried about.
Chapter 2

Liam followed Piper through the main office, which wasn't very large. Walter wasn't lying when he said there wasn't even a corner for him.

The two private offices held Walter and Morgan, and the remaining space was a suffocating tangle of shelving and old office equipment. One lone desk sat at the entrance, where a woman nearing retirement sat filing her long red nails that clashed with her orange hair.

"Have you met Charlene?" Piper asked.

"Yes," he answered, steering Piper in the opposite direction. "Show me the shop."

"Okay. Let me get you a pair of safety glasses first."

"I have my own." He pulled them from his breast pocket. "Shall we?" His arm extended to the door that was labeled "shop."

Piper studied him for a moment and then smiled. "Are you always so prepared?"

"Why? Do I seem to be?"

She nodded. "You seem very put together."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, you should." She slipped on her glasses. "But coming from me, it's only a small compliment."

"Why is that?"

"Because nearly everyone is more put together than I am."

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

"I'll let you figure that out on your own," she said with a pretty smile that dimpled one cheek and lit sparkles into her denim-blue eyes.

She looked so young to him. She had to be in her early twenties, but her freshness made her seem a mere girl. The honey-colored braid that rested on her shoulder magnified her youth.

Liam suddenly felt like an old man next to her. He wasn't. The calendar struck thirty years only last month. It didn't matter. She was blindingly innocent next to him.

"You're nothing like your sister," he said.

"Do you mean Morgan? How did you know she was my sister?"

"It's easy enough to tell. You both have the same hair and eye color." Morgan, however, didn't have the element of innocence wrapped around her like Piper did. He hoped she never lost it. Morgan was like jagged iron edging to the fire. She was too close to the melting point.

It'd all be over soon. He'd make sure of it.

"There are three of you, aren't there?" he asked.

"Yes, my sister Greer works here too, although she and I work off-site mostly. I'm sure you'll meet her eventually," Piper said. "You mustn't think too badly of Morgan. She can be hardheaded and a bear to work with, but she has a lot on her plate. She's changed a lot over these last few years. I'm sure once you start, she'll be able to relax more."

"What happened to make her change?"

Piper bit her lip in thought. Her fingers played with the end of her braid. "Dad died."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"We were all sad, of course, but it wasn't until Morgan took over the business that she changed. She reminds me of him."

"Your dad?"

Piper nodded. "He was all bluster and steam, barking orders and stomping around. But he never lashed out. He never even fired anyone. It was just his way. All smoke and mirrors."

"Why did Morgan take over? Your grandfather is around to run the business."

"We all tried to help, but if you haven't already noticed, she's a bit territorial. No one was allowed to work in Dad's office except her." Piper grinned. "I bet she's stewing now that you're going to work in her office too."

"You don't seem too concerned."

Piper laughed. "I think I'm going to bring my work to the shop. I don't want to miss a single moment. Don't worry." She patted his arm. "I have a feeling you can fend for yourself."

The shop door swung open and a man with a dark-blond, shoulder-length ponytail walked into the office. His hazel eyes scanned the room, briefly flittering on Piper before coming to a halt on Liam.

"Oh, Van," Piper chirped. "Have you met Liam? He's the new manager."

"New manager?" Van questioned. "What about Morgan?"

"They'll divide the workload," Piper said. "You know she can't do it all by herself."

"She's been doing it by herself. Why the change?"

Piper shrugged. "You'll have to ask Grandpa. He's the one who hired Liam."

Liam caught Van's assessing stare.

"I have to speak with Morgan," Van said, sidestepping Piper.

"But, Van—"

"I'll talk to you later, baby girl."

Piper frowned as Van took off, disappearing through Morgan's door.

Liam watched with curiosity as Piper managed to readjust her frown into a smile, though he could tell her teeth were still clenched.

The way Piper had beamed at Van, he knew she had a crush on him. And the way Van had so casually called her "baby girl" before dismissing her had Liam suspecting it was a one-sided crush.

But Van and Morgan? He glanced at the office door. Could something be going on between them?

"How long has Van worked here?"

"About ten years. He started when he was eighteen."

"Do you remember that far back?" he asked, wondering how young she was.

"Oh, yes," she said, her smile becoming sincere and not forced as it was moments ago. "He was an apprentice then."

"How old were you?"

"Twelve."

Mystery solved, he thought dryly. Van would always see Piper as the previous manager's twelve-year-old daughter and not the pretty young woman she'd become. But that was a different problem entirely, one that he didn't have time nor inclination to bother with.

"Shall we continue the tour?" he asked, already reaching for the door handle.

Piper led the way through the door. "Do you know much about this shop?"

"Some."

"We mostly weld here, although we have the capability for production. We also do custom blacksmith work. That's Van's area of expertise."

She walked along the perimeter of the large shop filled with machinery and a dozen or more workers. The noise level was tolerable for this type of work. There was the clanking of metal and the snapping of the welders' flames, but not enough to cause ear damage if proper safety equipment was used. Even though the shop extended far back, he could see from end to end.

"You can walk around if you'd like," Piper said. "Just don't look into a welder's flame. I don't want you going blind on my tour."

He smirked. "I'm sure I can keep my eyesight for one tour," he said, stepping onto the floor.

Safety was apparent here. Each worker wore protective gear, and safety signs were posted everywhere. It was nearly to the point of ridiculous how many warning signs there were, but he wouldn't complain about that. He'd rather have an overly safe shop than one that could cause an injury.

Not that he planned on staying long enough to worry about injuries. He really needed to stay focused on his primary goal and not how he could improve the company.

"Who's the safety coordinator?"

"Morgan."

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered.

"What was that?" she asked, leaning in.

"Nothing. Why don't we head back to the office? I'm ready to get started."

"It's almost the end of the day," she said. "Wouldn't you rather start tomorrow?"

"Today is as good as any."

"Another workaholic," she said with a sigh.

"Don't you like to work?" he asked. "What is it you do here?"

"I'm the tax deduction." At his quizzical stare, she smiled wryly. "The only reason I'm on staff is because I'm family and Morgan won't let me quit. She won't let Greer quit either."

"Are you unhappy here?"

"No, no. We just have other pursuits, so Morgan has set it up that we can do both."

Liam didn't know whether Morgan was a control freak or a motherly figure in her sisters' lives. He suspected both. But one thing was clear, this company was held together by Morgan. Which meant that she'd have the information he needed. It also meant she was behind it as well.

"I'm heading in," he said. "Are you coming?"

"No. I have to head out, but I'll see you tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow, then." He breezed through the shop door, stripping off his safety glasses as he headed to his shared office. He stopped short at the door. There was no possible way to step in farther. Morgan, Van, and Papa Bear were all at opposite corners, trapped by an extra desk wedged inside.

"I don't think this is going to work," Morgan said.

"Not with these old metal clunkers," Papa Bear said.

"We'll have to order a new one," Morgan said with a sigh.

Van cocked his head to the side, eyeing the desk. "I think I can make this work. Help me carry it to the shop."

"If you haven't noticed, we're boxed in," Papa Bear said.

Morgan scampered onto her desk, ready to hop her way over when Liam stepped in and lifted the end of the desk, helping to maneuver it out.

At her scowl, he said, "You don't have to do everything by yourself. I'm at least capable enough to pick up a desk."

Liam should have let her. The desk was a solid heap of metal and weighed a ton. He'd have enjoyed watching her struggle with it, but he knew she'd do it even if she injured herself.

With pinched lips, she sat at the edge of her desk, allowing the men to huff as they battled the unwieldy monstrosity. Once it was out the door, Papa Bear and Van said they could handle it the rest of the way, leaving Morgan and Liam alone in the office.

"Looks like we're back to where we started." She hopped off the desk and walked across the room to a four-drawer filing cabinet. "These are all the old sales files. Everything current is on the computer. I've thought about shredding most of it. I doubt we'd need documents going back to the seventies."

"Why have you kept it all this time?" he asked, peering into a drawer she had opened.

"I guess for the same reason we keep these old desks. They've always been here, so here they remain."

"Even the staff, it seems."

"Especially the staff."

Liam studied her for a moment as she lazily poked through the files with a content expression that eased the frown lines from her face. For that brief moment she looked as sweet and innocent as Piper.

"Charlene ordered you a computer," she said, reluctantly closing the drawer. Her frown reappeared. "It should be here tomorrow."

He nodded and moved away. His steps led him to a family portrait taken a decade ago, if his hunch was correct. He recognized the grandfather immediately, though he had twenty pounds more weight on him then. He recognized two of the three honey-haired sisters, all smiling. And a man who smiled but whose worry lines were permanently etched on his brow must have been the father.

"You can go home if you'd like," she said. "There's not a lot to do without a computer."

Liam briefly looked away from the portrait. "Why does Piper think she's a tax deduction?"

"Did she tell you that?" Morgan's eyes widened. At his nod, she sighed. "I wish she wouldn't say things like that. Grandpa said it once, and now that's how she sees herself. He said it more as an endearment than anything else, but the truth sticks with a person no matter how it's said."

"How is she a tax deduction?"

Morgan shifted to lean against the desk. "She's an artist. Her metal work is superb but only if she's creating something from imagination. When she's on the floor, her welds are atrocious. She tends to daydream, and whatever she's working on becomes nearly impossible to fix. So, she's a full-time artist, and we donate her work to charities to auction off."

"And you write off her wages."

"I don't want to belittle her work, but, yes."

They were silent for a moment until Morgan moved to the door, her body language signaling him to leave.

"Do you have a sales team?" he asked, not budging from his spot.

She glanced at the clock. "We have one outside salesman. Most of the sales come through referrals."

"Do you have someone on-site who handles sales questions?"

"Charlene can answer most questions. Anything she can't, she passes off to me."

"Basically, you do everything around here," he said, ignoring the exasperation building inside of him.

Morgan wasn't his problem to solve. He only had one job to do. But he did feel a little guilty about baiting her before. It was unprofessional, and he shouldn't have done it. There was something about her, though, that made him want to test her limits.

"Morgan?" Van stuck his head in the door. "I have a desk design in mind. Do you want to check it before I start?"

"Yes." She followed him out but stopped briefly near Liam. "I'll see you tomorrow . . . unless you decide the job isn't for you."

The hopefulness in her voice had him stifling a laugh. "I'll be here." He smiled as her frown returned.

Once they were gone, he sat down at her desk and thumbed through the stacks of paper. With any luck, he'd find the information he needed and be gone before she could think of a reason to fire him.
Chapter 3

Morgan stalked behind Van as he navigated the shop floor. She was going to throw herself into the project at hand and attempt to forget the many, many problems she was facing.

Studying Van's quickly drafted design, she gave a nod of approval. He moved over to his workbench and picked up his face shield and gloves. Morgan took them out of his hands before he could gear up.

"It's nearly time to go," she said. "I'll take care of this."

"I can stay late if you want. I don't mind."

"I mind. Go home. I'm sure you have to doll up for a date."

He grinned. "I'd take you out if you ever left this place."

Morgan adjusted the shield, propping it on the top of her head and slipped on the gloves. "If Grandpa has his way, I might not have a job much longer."

"You know he's just looking out for you. He's acting on what we're all thinking."

"And what is it that you're all thinking?"

He shook his head with a mischievous smile. "I'm not telling you while you're working with a torch."

"Then it seems as though this conversation is over. Go have fun." She snapped the shield down.

It was two hours later that she realized the shop was quiet. Everyone had gone home, leaving her behind. That was typical. It was how she preferred it. She worked better in silence.

In that silence, she had come up with a plan. In one month, she had to go back. They'd expect her to do another job.

She could refuse.

But she knew what would happen if she did. No, she couldn't refuse.

When she'd left Vegas today, she knew something big was about to happen and was powerless to stop it. Whether or not she'd ride out the avalanche or be buried with it was still to be determined.

Morgan glanced at the design again. It was simple enough, but the desk was so bulky that there were many cuts and welds that needed to be done.

She slipped off a glove and rubbed the knot forming in her shoulder. Maybe she could come in early tomorrow and finish it.

"Need help?"

Morgan turned to find Liam standing behind her. His jacket and tie had been discarded and his sleeves were rolled up to his firm forearms.

"Why are you still here?" she asked.

"I've been digging through files." His hands rested on his hips. "I thought I was the only one here. I should've known you'd still be working. Is this the old desk?"

"Yes. I should have it ready in a couple of hours. Did you find anything in the files besides dust?"

A small smile appeared. "A few paper mites."

"I see you survived. I hope they weren't too rough on you."

"I can handle a few bugs."

He looked casually charming in his rumpled suit, his dark hair tousled as if he'd run his hand through it several times.

"Listen," she said, tossing her gear onto the bench. "I'm sorry for being so abrupt earlier." It wasn't his fault he'd been hired. And her welcome was less than civil. "I had just flown in after getting some bad news. I wasn't expecting to return to my ultimate replacement."

"You do realize you're going to inherit this place?"

A wry smile tipped the corners of her mouth. "I do. Thank you for reminding me."

"Will your sisters inherit as well?"

"It will be a partnership, but they don't desire to continue. At least not with mundane office work." She looked Liam over again, assessing. Maybe he would work out. Maybe this was for the best. If she was rotting in jail, at least Liam could run the business. It wasn't as if Piper or Greer wanted anything to do with it.

"Good thing I excel in mundane office work," he said.

"Good thing," Morgan agreed. Damn it, Grandpa was right. They needed Liam. Well, not Liam exactly, but someone to take over.

Liam cocked his head to the side. "Are you feeling okay? You look worried."

"I'm fine." Her answer was gruff as she snapped the shield back into place and turned to the desk.

"I can help," Liam said.

"I'm fine."

Liam must have understood her need to be alone, since the next time she turned around, he was gone.

* * *

The next morning Morgan arrived at the office early enough to greet the shop staff as they clocked in. Van walked around the desk, inspecting Morgan's work.

"I should've known you'd work all night," he said. "What time did you leave?"

"Not too late," she said.

"Not too late?" he questioned, his hazel eyes challenging.

She deflected with a shrug.

"I drove past at ten. You were still here."

"That's rather early for you to head home," Morgan said. "Bad date?"

"You're changing the subject."

"I wasn't. Just curious. So, how was it?"

"Horrible."

Morgan smiled at his bland expression. He didn't seem fazed by his horrible date. In fact, it was almost as if he had known it was going to be bad.

Morgan reached over and tugged his ponytail. "Maybe the next girl will be Cinderella."

"God, I hope not."

"I thought I might find you here," Papa Bear said. "Is the desk ready?"

"Would you expect otherwise?" Van flicked a sarcastic glance at Morgan.

"Guess not," he answered. "Let's move it to the office. Liam is here."

"Already?" Morgan asked. "I wasn't expecting him until the office opened in an hour."

"He brought doughnuts."

Morgan silently groaned. She couldn't compete for shop loyalty if Liam was going to treat the staff to doughnuts. She hated to liken anyone to a canine, but truly, the staff had a one-track mind when it came to treats. Liam could now consider himself part of the team.

"I guess I'll head to the office, then," she said. "Unless you need help on the floor?"

Both men shook their heads.

With a sigh she headed into the office, vowing to be nice to Liam.

She found him sitting at her desk. "Van and Papa Bear will bring your desk in a few minutes," Morgan said in lieu of a greeting.

Liam briefly looked up from a stack of files. "Thank you."

Morgan stood in the doorway. It wasn't as if she could sit at her desk with him using it. She took a breath, making another vow to be less territorial. There was nothing on or in the desk that could cause a problem for her.

"What are your plans for the day?" he asked.

She blinked in surprise. Generally, no one asked her that. And especially not in the I'm-the-boss tone he had just used.

"Training you."

He sat back. "I'm a quick learner. I doubt it'll take you all day."

Morgan crossed her arms but was jostled to the side by Piper barging through with Greer in tow.

"Hi, Liam," Piper chirped way too happily for an early-morning greeting.

Liam smiled at the pair. "Hello. What brings you here so early?"

Piper tugged Greer up to the desk. "I want you to meet Greer."

Morgan suppressed a groan. Piper was as subtle as a dancing ox. Both sisters grinned at Liam; a giggle escaped the pair.

Liam stood and extended his hand to Greer. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Morgan narrowed her eyes at Liam's winsome smile. Did he have to be so obvious?

Greer was the prettiest of the sisters. They might all have the same features, but Greer somehow wore them better. She was beautiful and graceful, and her body was toned from countless hours of swimming. A complete guy magnet, and it seemed as if Liam was the next refrigerator.

Morgan rolled her eyes and made a quick exit. She didn't have time for whatever Piper and Greer were up to. Walking over to Charlene's desk, she sat down and flipped on the computer. Charlene never came in early, which gave Morgan nearly an hour to work in peace.

As soon as the computer booted up, Morgan logged in to her email. She deleted the junk mail right away and then scanned the rest. Most could wait until she was back at her desk.

But one email couldn't wait.

To anyone looking at the message sent by I & P International, it would look like a standard purchase order. But to her, it meant she was being called back early.

Damn it!

Morgan closed her eyes, willing the stinging tears to go away.

"Morgan?" Piper asked softly. "Are you okay?"

Morgan dashed the stray tear away and took a breath. "Yeah. Fine. Where's Greer?"

Piper pointed to the office. "They've struck up a conversation."

Morgan nodded.

"He's very handsome."

Morgan nodded again. She couldn't argue with a fact.

"I probably shouldn't have brought Greer."

"Why?"

"You know what happens when Greer is around. Everyone else becomes invisible."

Morgan reached over to take Piper's hand. "Only the people who matter can see beyond skin. And anyway, you don't have your sights on Liam, do you?"

Piper shook her head. "Although, I wouldn't rule him out."

"I would."

Piper eyed Morgan curiously. "Why?"

Morgan knew where Piper's heart resided, and it wasn't with Liam. It had always belonged to Van. It was one of the reasons Morgan never agreed to go out with Van. He was cute with his long hair and motorcycle, but not enough to warrant hurting her sister. No man was worth that. And Van was clueless. Or maybe he just didn't see that Piper had grown from an awkward teen into a pretty woman whose artwork was becoming more and more impressive.

Pretty soon, Morgan was going to have to let Piper go her own way. Piper could sell her art for more than what the company paid her.

But not yet.

"I take it back," Morgan said. "Perhaps you should see if Liam is interested."

Piper glanced at the office as Greer's laughter floated out. "I think I'm too late."

"You're never too late. You're the one who told me that if it's meant to be, it will happen in its own time."

"I might have been wrong."

Morgan hoped not. "Go back in there and be yourself. You'll be fine."

Piper stood, undecided.

Morgan smacked her behind. "Go."

"Okay, okay!" Piper grinned and headed to the office.

Morgan sat back and waited. She knew Van would arrive with the desk at any moment. She really didn't have time to play matchmaker, but something had to happen. Piper was wasting her life pining for Van. And it wasn't that Piper needed a man to fulfill her life, but it seemed as if she couldn't move on either.

The shop door swung open, slamming against the wall. Papa Bear heaved the desk through as Van shoved from the other side.

"This thing might be slimmer, but it weighs the same," Van complained.

"Just get it inside before my back goes out," Papa Bear grunted.

Morgan hurried over to help but was plowed out of the way as the desk was pushed through the shop door and into the office.

As she passed her office door to return to Charlene's workspace, she caught Liam yanking the girls back as the desk infiltrated the space.

Morgan sat back down, bringing her hands to the keyboard. She had to find cheap airfare, which was never an easy task with last-minute travel.

Couldn't they find someone closer? Someone in Nevada instead of Utah? And why her? It wasn't like her family owned the only metal shop. Las Vegas had to have dozens, especially with casinos being built around the clock.

So, why her? Why her dad? How had he become involved?

She had asked them once. It was after they'd first contacted her. The threatening answer wasn't helpful, but it confirmed what she already assumed. She could either continue or die.

Family included.

* * *

Liam stayed in the office with the two honey-haired women for as long as he could stand. They were sweet and pretty, but they weren't the honey-haired woman he was after. He didn't have time for pleasantries; he had to find information and fast. It was the reason he'd come in early. Last night, he had heard there was another mark. Something was going to happen soon, and his only link was sitting outside, working on the receptionist's computer while he was chatting like an imbecile.

They had him boxed in.

When Papa Bear and Van barreled in with the desk, Liam had the perfect excuse to pull the girls out of the way, giving him a clear exit.

Papa Bear and Van shoved the desk to its spot opposite of Morgan's. Van's eyes were quick to spot the Brennan girls before darting suspiciously over to Liam.

"It fits better," Papa Bear said, seeming pleased.

"It's a lovely design," Piper said. "The lines are slim, not clunky like they used to be."

"Van did that," Papa Bear said.

"Morgan did," Van corrected.

Papa Bear sighed. "Then you both did."

"Either way, it fits," Liam said. "Now it looks like it's _my_ turn to work." He had hoped that would spur the small party to leave, but they didn't budge.

"Liam, will you come to dinner tonight?" Greer asked.

"I don't think—"

"Oh, yes," Piper interrupted. "Please come to dinner. I'll make something special."

"I shouldn't—"

"It will be fun," Greer said. "Be at Morgan's house at seven. She'll give you the directions."

Morgan's house?

Liam nodded. "I'll be there. Thank you."

The girls smiled warmly and said their good-byes. Van followed them out.

"Do you need anything else?" Papa Bear asked.

"Nope. I have everything I need." He even had an invitation to Morgan's house.

Perfect.
Chapter 4

Morgan glanced at the clock. She had only a few minutes before Charlene arrived and she still hadn't found airfare. Everything was sold for the times she needed, including first class. If she didn't find something soon, she'd have to drive there, which meant she had to leave tonight.

She could possibly fly standby, but that could cause her more problems if she wasn't able to board.

With elbows propped onto the desk, Morgan buried her face into her hands and took a deep breath. Liam was going to have to take over for the days she was gone. Hopefully, he'd be so busy he wouldn't notice anything funny.

Or . . .

Morgan picked up the phone and dialed Remy, an acquaintance of sorts in Vegas. She had worked with him on a few projects before.

"Remy." It was his standard greeting.

"It's Morgan."

"I know."

"Do you still have access to the private jet?" Morgan remembered Remy had worked for a casino CEO who owned a jet. She hoped to call in a favor.

"No. What's going on?"

"I have to get to Vegas, and all the flights are booked."

"They've called you back, haven't they?"

"Yes, and I need to be there tomorrow."

"Give me a few minutes." Remy disconnected.

Morgan sat back, waiting for his call. When Remy said to wait a few minutes, she'd do as he said.

"Where are you going?"

Morgan stiffened at Liam's voice behind her. "Looks like I have a job in Vegas. I have to head out soon." There was no point in lying. Everyone knew where she went. They just didn't know anything else.

She felt Liam's presence still behind her but didn't bother turning around.

"When are we going?"

"We?" This time Morgan did turn around. Liam was standing close, reading the computer monitor.

"Yes. We."

"I'm going alone. I always do."

"How will I get to know the business if I don't go with you?" he questioned.

"You'll be more help here."

The corners of Liam's mouth kicked up. "Good of you to think so. But I'm going."

"Did you forget that I'm your boss?" Morgan snapped.

"Walter is my boss."

Morgan shot up, skidding the chair to the side. "Whether or not you go above my head on this one, you are _not_ coming. Your job is sales for now. I suggest you stick with that."

"I found three new clients yesterday," he said. "I think I have a firm handle on it."

"Yesterday?" He just started yesterday. Morgan glared. It was all she was capable of at the time. Damn him. He was not going with her no matter how many new clients he found!

His mouth widened into a smile.

The phone rang. Morgan quickly answered it, hoping it was Remy.

"I can get you on a cargo flight with a buddy of mine," Remy said. "Be at Waterfield airport at ten tomorrow morning."

Morgan sunk into the chair with relief. "Thank you, Remy."

"Just be careful. I know what you're up against, and I don't like it."

"I'll be fine. I always am."

"You know how to find me."

Morgan hung up the phone. Remy had disconnected in his usual abrupt manner. Liam stood over her with his hands on his hips. She was in no mood to argue with him. Now that she had her flight, all energy evaporated.

Charlene bustled through the door, her orange hair piled in curls on the top of her head. "It's going to be a scorcher today," she said, dumping her purse onto her desk. "The boys are going to be sweaty and ornery." She tugged at her form-fitting shirt, displaying a padded bosom. "I love days like these!"

Morgan stood to allow Charlene access to her workstation.

"I heard Liam brought doughnuts, so they might be happy for a while," Morgan said.

Charlene frowned. "Why is it that every time I start my diet, someone brings in food?"

"Why would you need to diet?" Liam asked. "You don't have an ounce of extra weight on you."

It was true. Charlene was stick thin, which made her round eyes look enormous — and they were magnified even more by her oversized glasses.

Charlene smiled and tittered. "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a peek and see if there is anything left."

"I'm sure there is. I bought two dozen," he said.

Charlene patted her hair. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Liam turned his gaze back to Morgan. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do I have to go to Walter?"

"No. You can come, but you have to find airfare." She smiled at Liam's distrustful expression.

Good luck with that, she thought happily as she trotted out to her car. There were a few errands she had to run before she left, and there was no better time than now. Once Liam realized there were no seats available, he'd have to give up. She'd love to see his reaction, but she had more important things to do.

* * *

Morgan returned to the office at lunchtime with a smoothie in one hand and a stack of mail in the other. She dropped off the mail at Charlene's desk.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Charlene asked. She nibbled on the end of a carrot stick, rocking back and forth comfortably in her chair.

"I guess the bad news." Morgan's stomach rolled.

"Rockford Construction turned down our bid."

"Did they say why?"

"Too much money."

Morgan rubbed her forehead. "But we deeply discounted."

"They said they found a place willing to do the work for cheaper."

"Cheaper," Morgan scoffed. "The only way a metal company could pull that off is by using substandard materials and half the weld points."

Charlene shrugged. "They'll figure that out when their building collapses."

Morgan knew money was tight for construction businesses, but she hoped they'd have enough sense to not compromise safety.

"What's the good news?" Morgan asked.

Charlene leaned forward, still nibbling on the carrot. "He's single."

"Who?"

"Liam, of course."

"Of course," Morgan echoed dryly.

"I checked out his W-4 before I filed it."

"I didn't hear that," Morgan said, walking to her office. She was happy to find it empty. Thankfully, Liam was elsewhere.

Morgan sat down, noticing her desk had been slightly rearranged. She returned her pen to the right of her keyboard, and shifted the phone so it was angled at forty-five degrees facing her, perfect for dialing.

"I heard you've been called away again," Walter said from the door. "You just got back. What do they want this time?"

Morgan ignored the question. "Did Liam come crying to you?"

"No, but he said he wanted to go."

"And what did you say?" It wasn't like it mattered. Liam wouldn't be able to find airfare.

"Not much. He didn't seem to need an answer. Rather adamant about it, really. I don't see the harm in having him tag along. Maybe he can take over that portion too. I hate to see you having to travel so much."

"It's not all that much."

"You just got back a day ago."

She had to concede that point.

"I don't like seeing you work so much," he said, stepping over to stand near the desk. He sat on the edge, holding on with large knobby knuckles.

Morgan didn't want to argue with him. He was only doing what he thought was best. If that meant she had to deal with Liam, she would. But not in Vegas.

"Where is Liam?" she asked.

"He's out on a sales call with Orton. I told them to head over to Ritchu's after."

"Why Ritchu's? You know we've tried several times to get their business. They're a lost cause."

"I have a feeling they might not be as lost with Liam as they were with Orton. Either way, what's the harm in trying again?" Walter stood. Before he left he said, "Liam was curious about our Las Vegas client. You might want to give him a briefing before you both leave tomorrow."

"I'll do that," Morgan said, sipping her smoothie.

It seemed Liam wasn't going to rest until he had every single piece of information. If he wasn't going to leave it alone, she'd have to create a fake client file to throw him off the scent. Remy would do nicely as a decoy.

Morgan navigated to the client files on her desktop and filled in a new client portfolio that included false work history and invoice payment status.

Cash. Paid in full.

If Liam ever tried to contact Remy, he wouldn't get much information. Even on a good day Remy was a closed book. He didn't trust very many people, which worked in her favor.

"Go ahead and list him under your accounts," Liam said from around the corner.

Startled, Morgan looked up to find Liam and Orton walking through the door.

"I can't," Orton said, shaking his head. "You're the one who hooked him."

"It wasn't very hard to do," Liam said. "You'd already paved the way."

"I didn't pave anything. I had cast him away long ago. Never thought we'd reel him in."

"I take it you got Ritchu's business," Morgan said.

Orton nodded. The fishing lures hooked on his baseball cap bobbed along. "Never saw it coming. Liam snagged him like a trout." Orton cast his invisible line and yanked back.

Liam nonchalantly sat behind his desk. "Go ahead and give Charlene the paperwork. We'll need to get the boys started on the first work order."

Orton was quick to follow Liam's direction.

"I'm always afraid he's going to injure himself with his hat," Morgan said, staring at the blank space Orton had resided in just a moment ago.

Liam smiled. "His car interior has seen better days."

"How did you get Ritchu's business?" It wasn't as if she needed pointers, but Orton had been after the man for years, and even Morgan had attempted once. She had vowed never to try again. The man might have enough work to keep them in business for decades, but his "requests" were unreasonable.

"I agreed to one of his conditions."

Morgan sat rod straight. "What condition?"

Liam's gaze flickered up, humor in their depths. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"What was the condition?" Morgan demanded.

"I think you already know."

"Charlene!" Morgan bellowed. "Stop the paperwork on Ritchu!"

Liam settled back into his chair, already too comfortable in his surroundings. "He's a big client. I don't see what you're making a fuss about."

"The fuss?" Morgan sputtered. "I'm not sleeping with that disgusting slob!"

Liam scratched his jaw. "But you would if he wasn't a disgusting slob?"

"No! I'm not sleeping with anyone to get their business. How dare you make assumptions!"

"Good. Because that's not the condition we agreed on."

"Oh." Morgan slumped into her chair, relieved and miffed at the same time.

"I'm not saying he didn't ask. His first dozen requests were of you and . . . well, let's just say I didn't agree to any of them."

"Thank you." Morgan didn't know the man sitting opposite her, but she had thought he'd toss her under the bus at the first chance. Now, he left her feeling as though she was stuck on the spin cycle, only to have him press the stop button. Her head still spun. "So, what did you agree on?"

"Any work over five thousand dollars will be discounted. The more work, the steeper the discounts."

"Orton and I tried that already. How come he signed with you?"

The corners of Liam's mouth kicked up. "I'm very persuasive."

Lord help her. She knew instantly he was exactly that.
Chapter 5

Morgan left the office as soon as it closed for the day. It was rare that she left with the rest of the staff, but she had to pack for her flight.

And she had a headache.

A Liam headache.

The man oozed charm. He wore it like a superhero suit. Adding to it, his skill at operating an office was top-notch, and his knowledge on the metal business was spot-on. He was good. Too good. If Morgan disappeared today, he'd have the business running smoothly without even a hiccup. Probably even at a profit spike.

Where did he come from?

Before her flight, she'd ask Charlene for Liam's file. Something wasn't right. He could work at a giant corporation. Why Brennan?

Morgan turned into her driveway, finding the garage blocked by two familiar cars. Morgan stifled a groan and parked beside the curb. She walked up the short path to her little square house.

The house was an exact copy of the rest of the houses in the older neighborhood. They were all square two bedrooms, with one large picture window in the front. The one difference that set her house apart from the others was a seven-foot steel tulip planted in the middle of her yard. It was one of Piper's earlier pieces.

From the outside looking in, she could see the living room and a small portion of the cramped kitchen where her sisters animatedly worked.

Morgan opened the unlocked door and dropped her purse in the normal spot on the side table.

"I gave you keys only for emergency use," Morgan said, trying to keep annoyance out of her tone.

"You never have emergencies," Greer replied, sweeping her long hair into a ponytail before opening the oven.

"Well, this is kind of an emergency," Piper said, her nose smudged with flour.

"How so?"

"My apartment is too small," Greer answered.

Hardly.

"And I live with Grandpa," Piper said. "You know he tends to fall asleep in front of guests."

Not if he likes them.

"Guests?" Morgan questioned.

"Well, just one."

Morgan unclenched her teeth to ask, "Who?"

"Liam," they both announced with a giggle.

"Didn't he ask you for directions?" Greer asked. "How will he know how to get here?"

"He won't, which means more food for me," Morgan said, suddenly happy. She peeked under the lids of several pots. "I'm not in favor of you breaking into my house, but since you're cooking dinner, I won't complain."

"We're not cooking for you," Piper said. "We're cooking for Liam."

"He's not here," Morgan said, dipping a spoon into the bubbling marinara sauce. She brought it to her mouth.

"Hello?" Liam called from the doorway.

"Ow!" Morgan dropped the scalding spoon and sped over to the faucet, tipping her head to flood her lip with cold water.

"Nice going," Greer said, holding a towel when Morgan emerged.

Morgan snatched it from Greer, pressing the corner gingerly on her swelling lower lip.

"How did you get here?" Morgan asked, wincing as her lip puffed.

"Car."

"No, I meant without an address."

"I got it from the emergency contacts on the shop wall," he said, holding out a bottle of wine. "The giant metal tulip was like an X on the treasure map. Piper's masterpiece?"

Piper nodded. A blush swept across her cheeks.

Greer rushed forward. "You're so smart." She took the bottle from him with a dazzling smile. "Did you ever think about becoming a detective? My skills at deduction are only so good as to help me find my keys."

Morgan stared at Greer. Her sister might be a bit of a flirt at times, but she was never so blatant. And she would never dumb herself down for a man, either.

"Come sit down," Piper said, gesturing to the couch. "We'll be done with dinner really soon."

"Yes, really soon," Greer parroted. "I'll just open this up. Morgan, why don't you sit down too?"

Morgan flashed a suspicious glance at the sisters shepherding both her and Liam to the couch, where she was unceremoniously pushed into the space beside Liam.

"You two talk. We'll be right back," Greer said.

"Seems like we've been benched," Liam said.

"So it seems." Morgan crossed her arms.

Liam didn't seem bothered. He stretched his legs out, his thigh brushing against hers. Morgan inched away.

"They're up to something," she said, glancing at the kitchen.

Morgan had thought for sure they'd lured Liam here for a shot at snagging him, but to dump her right next to their target was a little odd. Their long tradition of confounding Morgan continued.

"Does it matter?" Liam asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Morgan gusted a long breath. "You don't have sisters, do you?"

"No."

"Then you'll never know the horrors of them conspiring against you."

He raised a brow. "They're cooking dinner."

"Which they never do."

"They're being polite to the new guy."

"Which they never are."

"Never?"

"Not never. It's just . . . different." Morgan bit her lip and winced at the pain.

"Here, let me look at that," Liam said, cupping her chin to tilt her head to him. "Maybe you should put some ice on it. It looks like a bee sting."

Morgan nodded, thankful to escape to the kitchen. She was going to get answers. Hurrying over to Greer, she wrapped her hand around her sister's ponytail and gave a sharp warning tug.

Greer yelped. "Stop pulling."

"Tell me what the hell is going on," Morgan demanded.

Piper stood near the stove, stirring the sauce. She looked to Greer for guidance. Ah, so this was Greer's idea. Typical. Morgan tugged again.

"Nothing is going on!" Greer whispered harshly. "Let go of my hair."

"Not until you tell me why this feels like a setup. I thought you and Piper were interested in Liam."

Greer rolled her eyes. "We're redirecting."

"What does that mean?"

When Greer didn't answer, Morgan yanked.

"You already know that Piper likes Van," Greer said, gripping the top of her ponytail. She tugged, trying to separate herself from Morgan.

Of course Morgan knew Piper liked Van, but she also remembered the conversation she'd had earlier with her.

"What about you?" Morgan asked Greer.

"He's not interested in me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he only agreed to dinner after I said it would be at your house. He didn't want dinner with me. He wanted dinner with you. Piper and I are just here to cook, and then we'll disappear. You can thank us tomorrow."

Morgan's hand fisted tighter.

Greer squeaked. "Stop acting like a gorilla! Seriously, what's the problem?"

Morgan no longer knew what the problem was. There seemed to be so many. But she could at least contain two problems. Her sisters.

"Is everything . . ." Liam stalled as he rounded the corner. ". . . okay?"

Greer grappled for the poultry shears. "If you don't let go right now, I'll cut my hair!"

Morgan let out a jagged breath, untangling her hand. She knew Greer would do it just to have complaining rights for the rest of her life. If it was possible, she was more stubborn than . . . well, it didn't matter. Her hair was too pretty to fall prey to shears. And Liam was looking at the three of them as if they had green spots.

She settled her gaze on him. "Since you want to work for our family business — heaven knows why — you've now inherited sisters." Morgan flashed a fake smile to Liam. "You've now been embroiled in one of their schemes."

"Have I?" he asked, not looking at all concerned.

"Yes." She stepped away from Greer before her hand became active again. "And, if you'll excuse me, I have to pack."

Greer's perfectly groomed brows furrowed. "Why do you have to pack? You just got back."

"Didn't you read the email I sent out today?" Morgan asked, knowing very well Greer hadn't. Greer's head was either in water or surrounded by animals at the shelter where she volunteered. She only appeared long enough to cause havoc before skipping away, ponytail swaying.

The bugger of it was that she was more sweet than sour, more kind than treacherous, and more loving than not. She just had streaks of middle child syndrome that'd come out to taunt Morgan every once in a while.

"You know I had to work at the shelter this afternoon. I only had time to shower before coming here."

"I have to head back to Vegas tomorrow. My plane leaves in the morning, so I have to pack tonight." Morgan brushed past Liam. She didn't have a choice. Four people in a small kitchen didn't leave enough room for personal space.

"Wait," Greer said, pouring two glasses of wine and handing one each to Liam and Morgan. "I'll give you five minutes to pack, but I suggest you use those minutes wisely because you won't get any more until we leave, which will be very late."

Morgan casually sipped her wine, assessing Greer's smug expression. First Greer and Piper were going to leave as soon as dinner was cooked, and now they were staying?

"I can help," Piper said, clattering a lid onto a pot. "You gather, I'll pack."

"It's okay," Morgan said, dismissing Piper. "I'll only be gone for a day or two. I think I can manage."

Morgan felt three pairs of eyes trailing her as she walked down the short hallway and turned into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. In all honesty, she could pack with her eyes closed. Her duffel bag was in the corner next to the dresser. Her jeans and long-sleeved work shirts were in the bottom drawer. Underwear, two drawers up. A travel necessity case was sitting on the top of the dresser. If there was a drill, she could be packed and out to her car in thirty seconds.

She just wanted a chance to breathe.

Morgan walked across her gray and lavender room until she reached her bed. After taking a fortifying gulp of wine and placing the glass on the nightstand, she fell face first into bed. The thick comforter swallowed her groan.

All night?

She was going to have to try to be pleasant all night?

Morgan sighed, knowing she wasn't off to a very good start, but she wouldn't blame herself entirely. She had been ambushed. And why would they try to set her up with Liam? She didn't want a boyfriend, especially not him. Boyfriends were demanding. They left socks on the floor. They sucked up too much time and energy. She didn't need that kind of headache at this stage of her life. Perhaps when she turned late-thirty-something and her clock began noisily ticking.

She cringed.

She had to stay focused and get through the next couple of days. After that, she could plan. Something had to change for the better. She couldn't keep this up for the rest of her life.

* * *

Liam leaned against the kitchen counter as Piper and Greer fluttered about, preparing dinner and filling his ears with idle chitchat. He smiled when he was supposed to and answered questions when asked, but his mind was busy inventorying the house.

It wasn't very large; quite small, actually. But there were plenty of hiding places. He'd already searched every inch of Morgan's office. Would there be anything here?

He hoped so.

If he couldn't find evidence, then he'd have to catch her in the act. Thankfully, that might happen tomorrow in Vegas.

"Do you think it's been five minutes yet?" Greer asked.

Liam thought it had to be at least twenty minutes.

"I think it's only been three minutes," Piper said. "I can go get her if you want."

"No, you keep an eye on dinner," Greer said. "Liam, would you go knock on her door and see if she's ready?"

Liam nodded, knowing full well he was a pawn in their plot. Since it helped with his, he'd be a willing participant. He set his wine glass on the counter and walked down the short hallway to Morgan's bedroom. He rapped softly on the door.

No answer.

Slowly, he cracked the door open and peeked in to find Morgan on her bed. Her face was buried into the fluffy lavender comforter.

Was she asleep?

Liam opened the door wider and stepped in. If she was sleeping, he could quickly search her room.

"Go away."

Morgan's muffled order caught Liam just as he had turned his attention to the dresser. He glanced over to find her still face down.

"I was told to come and get you. It's been five minutes."

Morgan lifted her head to peer at Liam. She groaned and let her head fall back down.

"You're going to suffocate if you lie like that."

"Good."

Liam couldn't help but smile. He sat on the bed and leaned against the steel headboard, making himself at home. He knew it would irritate her.

She must have designed the headboard. For one thing, it was metal. And for another, it was hard and unyielding, like her. Although, the flower cutouts and brushed stainless steel added softness. It was a well-crafted piece.

Morgan peered up again. "You're still here."

"I only have two choices. I can hide in here with you or go back out to the kitchen. I hate to break it to you, but you win."

Morgan rolled to her side, her arm propping up her head. She looked at him flatly. "I'm more entertaining than those two?" Her eyes flicked to the open door.

"You have no idea," he said.

"Oh, but I do." Morgan's lips tugged at the corners.

He smiled, trying not to notice how her figure stretched along beside him, curves accentuated by her languid position.

"I'm not really a monster, you know."

Liam blinked, not sure if he had heard her right. His focus had shifted down her legs, ending at her prettily manicured toes. They were lavender, nearly the same shade as her comforter.

"I know that some people think I am, but I'm not." She fell back on the bed to gaze at the ceiling, her functional cotton shirt stretching tightly across her chest. "I just have a lot on my plate. But I like it that way. I'm a proud workaholic."

He ripped his eyes away from her. "I am too."

"What did you do before you started with us? I didn't get a chance to read your résumé."

Liam rubbed his jaw, trying to remember the information listed. The résumé was accurate, to a point. Only a few details were adjusted to help get his foot in the door. It had worked perfectly. Walter took one look at it and hired him on the spot. There hadn't even been a position advertised that Liam was aware of. "I had worked at an iron foundry. I started at the bottom and worked my way into the office."

"Which foundry? I've always wanted to visit one able to cast metal on a large scale. Is it somewhere nearby?"

She peered at him with curious eyes. He found himself caught in her gaze.

"Cast Again Foundry."

"I've heard of that place. It's not too far from here," she said. "They mainly use recycled materials, right?"

Liam nodded. "It's one of the reasons I started working for them."

"Do they give tours?"

"Not normally," he answered, suddenly becoming uncomfortable. They actually did give tours.

When Morgan frowned, Liam wanted to recant. But, as things stood, it'd be a bad idea to have her show up at his company.

"It's time for dinner," Greer called.

Morgan sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. "Shall we get this over with?"

Liam stood, thankful for the intrusion. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing for her to lead.

"Somehow, I don't think you're being chivalrous by letting me go first."

He grinned. "Never said I was."
Chapter 6

Liam watched as Greer slyly topped off Morgan's wine again. He wasn't sure if Morgan was aware she was drinking a bottomless glass. But by the way she leaned heavily on her propped arm, he didn't think she was aware of anything anymore.

If the night continued like this, he'd have his search wrapped up by ten o'clock and no one would be the wiser.

So, instead of halting the wine flow, he nudged the glass closer to her. He wasn't proud of himself, but he had a job to do and he preferred taking the simpler route, especially if that route bypassed Morgan.

"Did you save room for dessert, Liam?" Piper asked, standing to clear the dishes.

Save room? He was starving. The few bites of dinner he had choked down were not nearly enough. But out of respect for his taste buds, he didn't dare eat anymore of their pasta ala charred meat. He suppressed a shiver.

"I'm full," he said, not willing to try whatever dessert they'd concocted.

"Are you sure?" Greer asked. "We bought a pie from the bakery near the shop."

"They always make the best pies," Morgan said. A fond smile formed on her lips. "Didjah get the strawberry pie?" she slurred. "That's my favorite."

"I bought it especially for you," Greer said.

Morgan narrowed her eyes. "I should be suspicious."

"Don't be silly," Greer said, waving her off. "Liam, I'll bring you a slice. If you don't like it, just slide it over to Morgan."

Morgan nodded. "I'll eat it. I'd eat the whole pie if they let me." She glanced at Greer, eyes wide. "Will you?"

Liam laughed. "If it's as good as you say, I'm sure I'll eat it."

Morgan's sad face made him chuckle again, but he stopped when Greer looked smugly between him and Morgan. With a sly smile, she trotted off to the kitchen.

"Stop refilling her glass." Liam heard Piper's scolding whisper coming from the kitchen. "She's already drunk. You know she has a low tolerance since she rarely drinks."

"Exactly," Greer replied. "Morgan's too stubborn to make a move on Liam sober. She hasn't had a boyfriend in forever."

"She doesn't want a boyfriend."

"Then she can have a fling. And Liam is perfect."

Liam winced. He cast a sidelong glance over to Morgan to see her reaction, but she was oblivious to her sisters' conversation. From the looks of it, she was oblivious to almost everything.

"We'll serve dessert and then make an excuse to leave," Greer said.

"But what about Morgan? Maybe she'll need help getting to bed."

"We'll leave that in Liam's capable hands."

Liam rubbed his forehead. They had no idea who he was and they were leaving their currently defenseless sister with him. It almost made him angry had it not worked in his favor.

"I don't know about this," Piper said warily.

"Trust me."

Both sisters appeared again. One looked determined, the other worried. Unfortunately — or fortunately, for him — the determined Greer ruled. Greer placed a large piece of pie between him and Morgan, along with one fork. She smiled prettily. Had he not overheard their conversation, nor witnessed the flash in her eyes, he would think her innocent.

She was anything but.

"Piper and I have to go check on Grandpa," she said. "He tends to forget to eat if we aren't around to nag him."

Piper chewed nervously on her lower lip but nodded her agreement.

Liam stood. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't as if he could escort the ladies to the door. It stood only ten feet away.

Greer pushed him back into his chair. "You better feed her. She looks like she's wilting."

Liam glanced over at Morgan, who indeed sagged against her chair. "I'll make you some coffee," he said, not sure why he wanted to make her better. If he was smart he'd let her pass out at the table. But the way her head listlessly tilted and her eyes crossed stirred something in him. It was almost as if he wanted to protect her. Take care of her.

Ludicrous.

The lack of food must be getting to him. It was the only explanation.

He turned around to ask Greer where the coffee was, but the sisters were gone. He sighed and pushed back from the table. "Can you manage to stay upright until I get back?" he asked Morgan.

She nodded. A hiccup ricocheted through her body. "Scuse me."

Liam walked to the kitchen and spied the coffee maker right away. Thankfully, it was a single serve and the coffee sat right next to it. He opened the cupboard above and pulled out two mugs.

While he waited a few moments for the coffee to brew, he scanned the pale-yellow kitchen with white tiles. He doubted she would hide anything in here, but he wouldn't rule it out either.

It'd help to know what he was looking for. Evidence could come in any shape or form, and the instructions that had been forwarded to him were sadly lacking. Reed promised to get in touch with him but never had. It was frustrating. Liam had a company to run. He didn't have time to chase after Morgan. On that thought, he took two full mugs and wandered back to the table to find Morgan missing.

"Morgan?"

"Wha'?"

He followed the muffled voice to her bedroom. Damn. She was worse off than he'd thought. He eyed her on the bed, her legs dangling off with one leg out of her jeans. Her hair wrapped around her face in a rioting tangle.

Silently cursing, he crossed over to her and set the mugs down on the nightstand. He then retrieved the pie from the table. If he didn't get some food into her, she'd never make it to her flight. He needed her to lead him to information so he could go back to work. His work.

With pie in hand, he sat on the bed next to Morgan. "Can you sit up and eat?" She didn't budge. "It's strawberry pie, and I heard it's really good. If you don't want it, I'll eat it."

Morgan was slow to pull herself up. She batted her hair out of the way to gaze longingly at the pie. He stifled a groan when she slid closer, her jeans falling to the floor. While her personality left much to be desired, the rest of her was . . . none of his concern.

Liam focused on the pie. Cutting a piece, he held the fork in front of her. She happily opened her mouth. He watched as the morsel disappeared, her lips sliding from the fork with a satisfied smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut, reminding himself that she was a criminal. A criminal who would likely see serious jail time.

There was a movement on the bed. Liam opened his eyes to find Morgan sitting flush against him. Her legs stretched out next to his. The warmth of her body seeped through the one layer of material separating them.

She's a criminal, for God's sake!

Well, he didn't actually have proof. Yet.

Either way, he should not be affected by Morgan. There were lines that one did not cross, and Morgan was a giant, solid line complete with a blinking hazard sign.

Liam looked at Morgan and found she was staring at him with soft denim eyes. Averting his gaze, he refocused on the plate. She was only looking at him like that because he held her favorite dessert.

"More pie?" he asked sternly, hoping his voice wouldn't betray what his body was about to.

She opened her mouth.

Liam sighed and cut off a big piece. She barely fit it into her mouth, but at least the pie was half gone. When it was all gone, he scooted from the bed. Morgan tipped over from the sudden movement.

"Where's your alarm clock?"

She snuggled into her pillow. "Dunno. Is there mo' pie?"

"No, but there's coffee." He pointed to the mugs on the nightstand.

She shook her head.

"Where's your phone? I'll set the alarm on it."

"Dunno."

Liam pressed his fingers to his temple. He was supposed to be searching this place, not taking care of her. And certainly not feeding her!

As long as he didn't look at her, he could get through this night without embarrassment or regrets . . . or a headache.

He swiped Morgan's jeans off the floor and dug through the pockets. No phone. Perhaps it was in her purse. Liam left the room in search of it, finding it near the door. After a quick perusal, he found her phone. Setting her purse back down, he returned to Morgan's room only to find she was asleep.

Curled into a ball as if she was cold, he briefly thought to move her under the comforter but tossed the idea out. Touching her would be a bad idea. And he certainly didn't need a lawsuit from it, no matter how innocent it would have been.

Instead, he searched the phone to find an alarm. What he found was even better. Her email account. After a quick glance at Morgan to make sure she was still asleep, he quietly exited the room with his coffee and returned to the living room.

He made himself comfortable on the couch, though he wouldn't stay long. While he was certain Morgan would sleep until morning, there were no guarantees. The last thing he wanted was to get caught snooping.

Scanning the list of emails, he ignored all spam and store advertisements. He also ignored anything that looked personal for the time being, though she didn't have many of those. Whatever she was up to involved the business.

After twenty minutes of reading work emails that didn't shed one beam of light, he tossed the phone next to him and let his head fall back on the cushion. If she had received incriminating emails, they were deleted. Morgan wasn't going to make this easy for him.

While Liam sat, he wondered if he should even bother searching the house. He had no idea what in the hell he was looking for, no definitive instructions, and a half-dressed woman passed out in the bedroom.

No, he'd leave for now. The risk wasn't worth it. He had his company to think about.

He'd retreat and call his contact. The bastard owed him an explanation.

* * *

An hour later, Liam sat behind his desk at Cast Again Foundry, weeding through messages. He should've never promised to help his friend collect information on Brennan Metal Works. His company didn't run itself. He'd missed several important calls already.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Liam looked up to find Reed Taylor, his old friend, standing in the doorway. Although, right now, their friendship was debatable.

Reed's normally shaved face had an inch of beard. Auburn hair that was regularly clipped short was now curling at his neck.

"It's about time you showed up. I've been spinning my wheels over at Brennan."

"Sorry, I've been out of town."

Reed crossed the office and sat in one of the uncomfortable, impractical guest chairs opposite of Liam; a painfully expensive trinket from Liam's days dating a self-proclaimed decorator whom no one would hire.

Liam had fallen prey to her pleas and let her decorate his office for her portfolio. He still hadn't overcome the shock of the tasseled monstrosity that replaced his leather executive chair. He mourned that loss every time he sat in his now-velvet throne.

Reed curiously scanned the office and its oddities. "You got your foot in the door?"

Now that Reed was across the desk from him, Liam noticed a thin line along Reed's throat. He knew Reed wouldn't tell him why it looked as if he was millimeters away from getting his throat slit. It was only recently that Liam found out that he was an agent, and that was only because Reed wanted his help.

At one point in history they had been best friends. But separate colleges ended that rather quickly. He never heard from Reed again . . . until recently. Liam didn't know why he felt the need to help him. They didn't owe each other anything.

"It was easy enough," Liam said. "The owner hired me. I've searched the building and files and came up dry, not that you told me what I'm supposed to look for."

Reed smiled in that casual way that was so natural to him, yet was at odds with his chosen profession. "I knew you'd get in."

"Did you hear the part about me not finding anything?"

"I'm sure you will, just keep at it."

"No. I'm done."

When Reed had first asked for help, Liam was hesitant but was so happy to see Reed that it didn't take much arm twisting for him to finally agree. Liam even thought it might be a fun change of pace. But after tonight's episode at Morgan's house, he wanted out. This wasn't who he was. He didn't want to send anyone to jail or ruin a company. He actually liked the people at Brennan, even Morgan, if somewhat grudgingly. Whatever Morgan was up to was her own business. If she was breaking the law, then her crimes would catch up with her eventually.

Reed sat calmly, staring. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Haven't you been listening?" Liam crossed his arms. "I didn't find anything, and I have a company to run. I don't have time for this."

"What about Morgan Brennan?"

"She's up to something, but I don't know what. I checked her emails and couldn't find anything."

Reed nodded slowly. "What's she been doing that makes you suspect something?"

"She leaves town for days at a time. She'll leave again tomorrow morning. No one knows about her activities." Liam sighed. "Morgan is very secretive. If something is going on, it involves her and her alone. She's not the type to ask others to do her work."

"Where does she go?"

"Vegas."

Reed nodded as if he already knew the answer. "I need you to follow her."

"Don't you have agents for this? Why don't you follow her?"

Reed scrubbed his hand over his face. "I need you on this. I've gone dark. No one can know what we're doing."

"What do you mean, 'dark'?" Liam stamped down the panic squeezing his chest. It was one thing to help an FBI agent; it was a completely different thing to help one on the run.

Reed pressed his lips into a fine line before saying, "It's better if you don't know the entire story. Just think of it as helping a friend." When Liam shook his head, Reed added, "Following Morgan isn't illegal. I'd never ask you to do anything that'd land you in jail." Reed's smile returned. "You're too pretty for prison."

Liam nearly returned the smile. It had always been this way between them. Reed was the instigator, twisting Liam's arm with the promise he wouldn't go to jail. And every time Reed called him a pretty boy, it made Liam want to prove that he was more than just a face.

But that was the past, the old Liam. Now, he didn't give a damn what people saw or thought. "I'm not doing it. I want no part of whatever you're up to."

Reed slowly nodded as if understanding that arguing with Liam would only waste their time. As he stood to leave, he said, "I won't press you, Liam. I appreciate what you've done so far." He crossed over to the door but paused before exiting. "I found out who the next mark is. You might be interested in knowing who."

"It's none of my business," Liam stated. He returned to his work, trying to ignore the melancholy that blanketed him as he prepared for Reed to walk out of his life again.

But Reed didn't leave. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at Liam.

"What?" Liam asked.

"Morgan is the next mark."
Chapter 7

Liam sat in his gaudy chair, stunned by Reed's words. He couldn't have heard Reed right.

"Morgan is the next mark," Reed repeated. "They want her gone."

When Liam didn't respond, Reed turned as if to leave. Liam let him. Morgan wasn't his responsibility. She was a criminal doing illegal things. If it was her neck on the line, she put it there herself.

But by the time Reed made it to the elevator and was about to step on, Liam shouted, "Wait!"

Liam silently cursed as Reed grinned. He could see the smug smile from his desk. He had been sucked into Reed's schemes again. And all for a woman who would rather punch him than let him help.

But, he never agreed to help. Not yet, anyway. He would, however, get more information and end this mystery Reed kept dangling in front of him.

Reed returned and sat in front of Liam again. "I thought you might be interested." He shifted in the chair, unable to get comfortable. "What possessed you to buy these chairs? They're horrible."

Liam ignored the question and stared at Reed. He wanted to wring information from him, but he also didn't want to set himself up. If Liam showed too much interest in Morgan's fate, he might find himself on a plane tomorrow morning, heading to Vegas to share that same fate. He should shut down the conversation now.

"She's pretty," Reed said casually.

Liam knew exactly who Reed was referring too. Reed was testing him, trying to see if there was a connection he could exploit.

"What do you want?" Liam asked. "I'm not sticking my neck on the line for anyone, pretty or not."

Reed leaned forward, propping his elbows onto the edge of the desk that was cluttered with sparkly paperweights — more parting gifts from his ex. Reed studied Liam for a moment. "Her sisters are pretty too, especially the middle one. What's her name? Greer?" Reed shrugged as if it didn't really matter, as if his line of questioning wasn't weaving a trap. "Walter seems like a nice man. And the employees —"

"What do you want?" Liam curled his fingers around the arms of his chair.

"I'm just saying it would be a sad loss if they died."

"You said Morgan was the target."

"She is. But they won't stop there. Once her disappearance is noticed, questions will be raised. Investigation. Detectives." Reed shrugged. "The entire family will be at risk. One well-placed bomb would take care of them and the entire shop."

"And raise more questions."

"You would think so." Reed leaned back, stretching his legs out. "One missing woman wouldn't warrant the need for the FBI. But once you make the crime fit the criteria, the FBI will take over."

Liam leaned back and mirrored Reed. Wouldn't Reed want the FBI to take over? He made it sound as if it would be a bad thing. "Why did you go dark?" When Reed didn't answer, Liam surmised, "There's a dirty agent. That's why you wouldn't want the FBI's involvement."

Reed let out a slow breath and nodded.

"How do the Brennans fit in?"

"Recent activities have been scrubbed."

"Whose activities?"

Reed shook his head. "If I'm going to tell you any more, I have to know you're on board."

"I'm only on board if you tell me everything you know," Liam stated and then stopped when he realized what he had said. "What the hell am I saying? Only a lunatic would get mixed up in this."

Reed smiled. "I've called you worse in the past."

"No. I'm not helping. I'm not getting involved."

"If you don't help, Morgan will die."

"Why can't _you_ follow Morgan and help her?"

"Do you see this?" Reed pointed to the thin line on his neck.

"Yes, I wanted to ask about it."

"Next time the cut will be deeper. I can't be seen following Morgan."

"But I can?"

"My cover was blown the moment I was sold out. No one knows you. You're a business man from Waterfield, Utah. They won't touch you."

"Who are _they_?"

"Ivankovs. You remember them, right? That particular _bratva_ is hard to forget."

"Russian mafia." Liam's stomach plummeted.

Morgan was involved with the Russian mafia? No. She seemed too smart to get involved with an organization like that. But the revelation wound a jagged path to his gut. It would explain her secretiveness. No one knew what she did when she disappeared for days at time. And when questioned, she put up roadblocks.

"How is Morgan involved?" Liam asked.

"That's for you to figure out."

"I told you I'm not getting involved, especially if it has to do with the Ivankovs."

"Morgan's been marked for a reason. There's something she knows that they want covered up. The easiest way to keep it covered is by killing her and her family."

"And what will you be doing while the Brennans are being wiped out?" Liam tried not to wince as an unwanted image appeared of the deceased Brennan family. This wasn't his problem. He barely knew them. Still, three honey-haired women appeared in his mind's eye, dramatically splayed on the ground with blood pouring out of bullet holes.

"I'll be tracking the woman who sold me out," Reed said.

"Girlfriend?"

"Partner."

"What did you do?" Liam questioned, wondering if there was more to the story, especially since that agent was a woman. Reed was never one to keep his hands to himself. While he'd never press his attentions, there was something about Reed that made most women interested. And then Reed would be Reed and happily trot away to greener pastures, leaving Liam to clean up. He was done cleaning up after Reed.

"We were partners for five years," Reed said. "I never suspected anything until the _bratva_ sent a contract killer, courtesy of Sonya."

"Sonya?" Liam leaned forward. "Not the same —"

"The same."

Liam leaned back heavily in the chair. Sonya. Her name was a ghost from the past, one he wanted to forget about. She was the first wedge that tore Reed and Liam apart.

"You slept with her."

Reed drummed his fingers on his knee. "It wasn't like that."

"Then tell me what it was like."

"I killed her father."

* * *

With a groan, Morgan sat up and braced herself against the headboard. "What the hell happened?" She cringed at the dry paste that coated her tongue. With only the thought of scouring her mouth, she hurried to the bathroom, fighting the swaying room.

She remembered the dinner and her sisters. Ugh. She even remembered Liam. And wine. Too much wine. Why was she half dressed? Where were her pants?

As quickly as Morgan could move, which wasn't very speedy at all, she brushed her teeth and showered. As she toweled off, she tried to recall what was on her schedule for the day. Morgan vaguely remembered there was something important that she was supposed to do, but it was impossible to put her finger on it.

After dressing in her normal jeans and long-sleeve, shop-approved wear, she shuffled to the kitchen. Coffee was what she needed, especially if she had to see Liam again. He would badger her about tagging along to Vegas.

Vegas!

"Shit!" Morgan whipped around to read the clock. It was quarter to ten. She had fifteen minutes to drive to the airport, which normally took twenty on a good day.

Bolting back to her bedroom, she shoved necessities into her duffel bag and raced out the door, grabbing her purse and phone on the way out.

Praying there were no patrol cars on her route, Morgan sped to the airport. If she didn't make the flight there was no telling what would happen.

Actually, she knew exactly what would happen. The _bratva_ had threatened her so many times, it was now imprinted into her brain.

Panicked, she called Remy to see if he could stall the plane for a few minutes. Unfortunately, the call went straight to voicemail. Morgan left a message anyway, giving a short explanation.

As she kept an eye on both the road and the clock, she realized she would never make it in time, even while speeding. Her only hope was that the airport would have a delay. But judging from the cloudless skies and the fact that it was a smaller airport with no passenger aircrafts, her hopes were quickly smothered.

Should she call her contact and plead with him? No, that never worked and only managed to anger him. The always-present feral gleam in Dmitri's eyes made her nervous, even from hundreds of miles away. Morgan jammed her foot onto the accelerator, doubling her speed.

* * *

Liam glanced at his watch. He had already held the plane once; he wasn't sure he would be able to do so again. Where was Morgan? She must have overslept, and he kicked himself for not driving past her place first to pick her up — not that she would have allowed him anywhere near the plane. She would have fought him at every turn, which was why he drove straight to the airport.

With Remy's instructions, it was easy enough to find the cargo plane and the surly pilot, who was now grumbling about flight plans and delays. If Morgan didn't show up soon, Liam would have to disembark and allow the pilot to go.

A dark-gray sedan flew up the drive and screeched to a halt at the security booth.

"She's here," Liam said to the pilot.

"It's about damn time." The pilot radioed to the tower and proceeded with the flight check while Morgan parked, yanked a duffel bag from the passenger seat, and ran to the plane.

Liam relaxed against the faded leather seat that was held together by packing tape and put on the headphones that were hanging on a hook. Like the seats, the headphones had seen better days. But his reasons for wanting to wear them, even though they were clearly dirty, were, one, to hear exactly what was happening over the radio and to speak with the pilot as needed. And, two, to avoid talking to Morgan, who had just spotted him as she raced across the tarmac.

From the way she glared at him, she'd no doubt have plenty of angry words and demands that he remove himself from the plane.

As soon as she boarded, her low, threatening voice reverberated along the sensitive skin on his neck, seeping through the cracked headphones. "What the hell are you doing here? I told you, you're not coming."

"You better sit down," Liam said. "The pilot has been waiting on you and is eager to take off. We've been cleared to enter the runway."

"Shut the damn door!" the pilot shouted.

Morgan grudgingly turned to close the door and lock it. She sat behind Liam and, while Liam couldn't see her, he could definitely feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull.

Thanks to Reed, Liam now understood Morgan's need to keep her activities private, but that didn't mean she could continue. From what Reed had told him, she was in desperate need of help, whether or not she chose to acknowledge that. And even though Reed had filled him in, there were many more questions that only Morgan could answer.

Reed had warned him to keep his distance, to only follow her. If the _bratva_ thought he was helping Morgan, he'd find himself in the same trouble. Taking a flight with Morgan was risky, but he had little choice in the matter. All flights were booked. And with Reed having gone dark, he had no access to FBI assets.

Thankfully, Liam remembered Morgan had spoken with a man named Remy for her flight. It was easy enough to look through client files and find his name and number.

But after reading the file, it added another mystery to the list. The file was too clean. It looked as if Morgan had added it but didn't want any questions, so she tied up all ends neatly. Account paid in cash.

When Liam spoke with Remy on the phone, it made him question their relationship even more. There was something about Remy that intimidated him, even if by voice only. Liam couldn't get answers from the man. Only after explaining circumstances, which Reed expressly forbid, was Liam able to obtain the flight information.

This was going all wrong, and he only had himself to blame. Well, himself and the woman who was sitting behind him ready to throttle him. And Reed. Sonya, too. As soon as they landed in Vegas he'd demand answers. Not only was Morgan risking her life, but that of her family, and now his.

She'd better have a damn good explanation.

* * *

It was no wonder humans were not equipped with death-ray eyes, Morgan mused. She alone would wipe out half of the population just by glaring. The prey sitting in front of her would be the first to go.

How did he get on board? How did he know? Remy wouldn't have told him, would he?

And how dare he take the front seat and assign her to the back like the cargo barely contained by the frayed netting!

It was frigid in the flying scrap of metal.

Morgan had been so worried about arriving to the airport in time that she hadn't thought to bring warm clothes for the flight. This wasn't an overfilled passenger cabin packed with warm bodies. This was cold metal with stacks of boxes. She should've brought a jacket.

Liam, of course, had a coat. He didn't seem to notice the temperature drop.

Morgan rubbed her hands together, forgetting the danger ahead and the frustrating man sitting in front of her. She used what energy she had to keep her teeth from chattering and her hands from frosting.

She grabbed her bag and pulled out her two days worth of clothing, layering them on top of her. It helped, but only slightly. Her hands were still cold, and she could still feel the chill as the air invaded through the fabric. The only items she had left in the bag were her bathroom necessities and undergarments.

She could use . . . No, she wasn't about to use her underwear as mittens. She'd just deal with the cold. It was only a one-hour flight, maybe more, depending on the speed of the lumbering aircraft. She wouldn't die from hypothermia in the short time. But as her mind worked through all the reasons not to wrap her unmentionables around her hands — a key reason sitting in front of her — her shivering body decided otherwise.

Morgan reached into her bag and brought out two pairs of work undies. She and her work under-attire were in a love/hate relationship. She had no need for frivolous silk and lace riding up where it didn't belong while welding. Sturdy cotton was her comfortable friend. And would now be her mittens. Practical and functional.

But sometimes Morgan wished there was a reason to wear something other than work garments. That was a wish that'd never happen. She wouldn't let it happen. Morgan had known it as soon as she stepped into her father's shoes. Her life now belonged to the _bratva_. Anyone close to her was at risk. She couldn't do anything about the family that she already had, except to protect them as best as she could. But she damn well wouldn't add to the family.

With a sigh, she wrapped underwear around each hand as best as she could and then crossed her arms, keeping them in place and hiding them from view. If Liam or the pilot turned to look at her, they would only see a sliver of white. They would have to pry open her cold, dead icicle arms for a better look.
Chapter 8

"Cold?" Liam looked down at Morgan, huddled into a ball in her seat. He knew the flight would be chilly, but he thought Morgan would have brought a coat with her. Instead, it looked as if she was wearing three pairs of clothes. Now that they'd landed, she could warm up in the Vegas heat, but she first needed to open the door she was blocking.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

"Then open the door."

Morgan looked down at her knees quizzically. "Turn around."

"Why?"

"Just turn around!"

Liam didn't understand her sudden moodiness, but he hadn't seen her when she wasn't moody. Perhaps when she was drunk she was less . . . Morgan. But, for the sake of getting off the plane, he turned around and faced the pilot, who was peering around him at Morgan.

"Open the damn door," the pilot barked.

"Hang on!" Morgan snapped.

Liam hazarded a glance back at Morgan, only to see her shove clothing into her bag. Was that underwear? He averted his eyes. What was she doing with her underwear?

He didn't want to know.

"You can turn around." Morgan unlocked the door and shoved it open, using her weight to budge the heavy metal.

As soon as they were on the tarmac, Morgan slung her bag over her shoulder and took off toward the parking lot. Liam raced to catch up with her. She was trying to put distance between them, and Liam was not about to let that happen. If he blinked at the wrong time, she'd be gone.

He still wasn't sure why he was sticking his neck on the line for her. Well, not just for her, but for Reed too. This wasn't his problem. However, no matter how he reasoned, he couldn't turn his back and forget what Reed had told him. No, he was going to see this through and come up with a solution.

"You're not coming!" Morgan stopped so suddenly that Liam nearly ran into her.

"I'm already here."

"Turn around and go home."

"I know what's going on," Liam said. "I'm here to help you."

"You have no idea. Turn around before it's too late." Morgan stormed away, but Liam caught her arm.

"Would it happen to have anything to do with the Russian mafia?" he asked, thankful she stopped struggling.

"How do you know?" she demanded. "I've told no one."

"Let's just say I found out." He didn't want to bring Reed into the mix. Reed was already on the _bratva's_ hit list, he didn't need to be added to Morgan's.

Morgan looked as if she was about to launch into an argument but stopped when she spotted a man in the parking lot. He was large, muscularly built with a shaved head and olive skin. He was the exact image of how Liam imagined a Russian mafia thug would look. He must have come for Morgan, and there was no hope of turning back now. Liam was in this until the end.

"Who is that?" Liam asked.

"None of your business."

Morgan walked toward the stranger without hesitation. Liam thought that was curious until he heard the man greet Morgan. Judging by the familiar deep voice, this had to be Remy.

Remy quickly scanned Liam as he walked toward them. He held out a large hand. Liam studied the man as he shook his hand.

"I'm Liam Hayes."

Remy nodded. "I know."

Morgan glanced between them. "How do you know?"

"He called me for flight information."

"And you told him?" Morgan's eyes flashed. "You know what will happen."

"It's been a long time coming." Remy turned toward a Cadillac parked only a few spots away. "Thought you might need a lift."

"I'll rent a car," Morgan said. "You can't be seen with me. Neither of you can!" Her narrow gaze targeted Liam.

"I can hold my own," Remy said. "And I suspect he can too."

Morgan slashed out her hand to point at Liam. "He's an office manager! How can he —"

"Defend myself?" Liam finished when Morgan had stopped. She had a fair point. He knew nothing of self-defense. He was probably the worst person to help. Unfortunately for them both, he was all she had.

"We can discuss this on the way." Remy opened the car door and sat down as if he wasn't worried that Morgan would storm off.

She didn't. Morgan walked around the car and sat next to Remy, tossing her bag in the backseat.

Interesting. Remy held some sway over Morgan. She might argue with him, but she listened to him in the end. What was their relationship? Morgan was in Vegas enough to make a long-distance relationship work. But neither seemed overly happy to see each other.

Liam slid into the backseat, nudging Morgan's bag over and depositing his own next to it.

As Remy drove out of the parking lot, he asked, "Did they give you your assignment yet?"

Morgan flicked a glance back at Liam before answering. "No. I won't know until they contact me."

Remy nodded and pulled onto the freeway. Liam sat quiet, listening. He wouldn't ask questions, not right this moment anyway. Morgan would shut down the conversation, and he'd be back to arguing with her. But there were so many questions that he had that were still unanswered. Reed could only provide some information. Morgan knew the rest.

But the remaining car ride was in silence. It wasn't until they reached storage units on the outskirts of town that Remy spoke.

"I'll be out of town for a few days," he said. "Call if you need to, but you're on your own."

"I'm always on my own."

Remy glanced at Liam. "Maybe not anymore."

Morgan frowned and opened the door, stepping out into the sun. Liam followed her lead and grabbed the bags before exiting. Without another word, Remy left them outside the fenced storage property that looked more like a dusty abandoned shelter. The broken sign, hanging on by its last nail, creaked in the soft wind.

Why were they here? Why would Remy drop them off at a deserted building in the middle of nowhere? Liam refused to ask. He knew it would only spark a fuse. If he was patient, the answers would come.

"Nice place," Liam said.

Morgan rolled her eyes and shoved past Liam to the fence. She dug out keys from her purse and opened the rusted lock. He watched as she strong armed the fence to wedge it open. He was about to ask if she needed help, but stopped himself. It would have been a mistake to try to help her now.

He followed silently along the stretch of storage units until they reached the last one. The padlock on the roll-up door was in better shape than the one on the fence. She quickly unlocked it and tossed up the door with ease. This locker was maintained.

Immediately he noticed a large pickup truck parked in the space. Morgan walked past the truck into the dark area behind it, disappearing from view. It took all of Liam's resolve not to follow her in. He wanted to know what was back there, but he also knew he'd run into the wall Morgan erected around herself. She had to be the one to allow his help, which he didn't suspect would happen anytime soon. If she didn't, he'd have to go the route Reed suggested originally and just watch from a distance. But, somehow, he knew it wasn't the right course of action. Morgan had been on this train wreck for years. If she hadn't successfully jumped off by now, she wouldn't be able to on her own.

Liam's phone rang, jarring him from his thoughts. It was his office. A quick glance at the dark space where Morgan dwelled gave him reason to answer the call. She wouldn't want him around anytime soon, and he had missed too many important calls from work with this charade. If Morgan overheard his conversation and questioned it, so much the better.

"Meyer called again this morning," Bethany said as soon as Liam answered the call.

"Tell Trace to work on the project. I'll be out of the office for a few days."

Bethany sighed. "Trace hasn't been in the office since you left days ago."

Liam stood still for a moment, letting the newest piece of information wash over him. He had promised himself he wouldn't let Trace's antics provoke him anymore. "Call him and tell him to take over the project."

"You know how he is."

"I do. You can also tell him I'm cutting off his funds if he doesn't."

"I'll tell him. But you threatened him with that before, and it didn't seem to work."

Liam felt the veins in his neck throb as he tried to remember his promise to keep calm. But with Trace, that promise never lasted long.

"I'll call him now." Liam ended the conversation and started a new one with Trace's voicemail. "You have twenty minutes to get your ass out of bed and into the office or my next call will be to the accountant." Liam shoved the phone into his jeans pocket and stripped off his coat, tossing it onto the bags at his feet.

He looked up to find Morgan staring at him as if he had sprouted five snarling heads.

"Did you just speak to one of my employees like that?" she demanded.

* * *

Morgan couldn't believe what she had just overheard. She hadn't known Liam for long, just a couple of short and painful days, but she never thought he'd be a dictator-type boss. The person who snarled into the phone as if he was facing off with an enemy was not the person who stood before her, now calm . . . resigned.

"Who were you talking to?" Morgan prompted when he failed to answer her previous question.

"No one of concern."

"It is my concern when you order someone to my office like that. I will not tolerate you abusing my employees."

"He's not your employee. He's mine." Liam's answers became clipped.

Morgan could nearly feel the crackling tension as it rose within him. "They're all the employees of Brennan Metal Works. I want to know why you spoke so harshly." Why was he adamant that this was _his_ employee? What was she missing? It seemed as if they were having two different conversations, and it left her confused.

"Don't we have other things to discuss?" he asked, nodding his head toward the storage space.

"No. Not until you tell me what's going on." She crossed her arms.

"I could demand the same thing." He mirrored her.

They glared at each other for what seemed like hours until she finally blinked. "You need to leave," she said. "I'll drive you to the airport."

"I'm not leaving," he said, dropping his stance. "I know you're in trouble with the Russian mafia."

It was as if he'd punched her. "What do you know?"

"Too much," he admitted, scrubbing his hand over his face.

Morgan took a moment to study him. If he knew about the Russians, then he did indeed know too much. And now that he was in Vegas with her, he was as good as dead unless he cooperated with them, which made her problem now his. It also made them bound to each other, at least for now. If either of them failed, they'd both share the same fate. The Ivankovs saw everything. They would know Liam was with her.

Liam was smart, and judging from the way his dark cotton T-shirt molded to his chest and arms, he was strong. But this was the mafia. The Italian mafia might have the cornerstone in Vegas, but the Russians were . . . Russian.

Morgan had seen the tortured, mutilated bodies. It was not a fate she wanted to share.

If they both were to survive this, she needed to trust in Liam enough to give him details. If he didn't understand the seriousness of this, he'd wind up making a mistake. He was an idiot to have followed her.

"Come with me," she said, trailing the truck to the back of the unit where all of her equipment was stored. She started the generator and turned on the lights so Liam could see properly. She didn't have to look behind her to know that he had followed her. But, if her senses were wrong and he had fled, so much the better. "I normally use the stick welder, but sometimes the MIG if the job comes here." She pointed to the equipment. "I'll receive a call within the next hour or two with an assignment."

"What kind of assignment?"

Morgan shrugged. "Welding." At his irritated expression, she added, "I'm given coordinates to meet my contact. He'll show me what I need to weld." Morgan could sense Liam's growing frustration with her answers. "Listen, you're in over your head. I know you're trying to help, but this is going to end badly for the both of us."

"Don't you think I know I'm in over my head? The only reason I'm here is because you're the next mark. They didn't summon you to work; they called you here to kill you."

"How do you know?" Morgan demanded as the air escaped her. How was it he knew what she had suspected for a while now? Dmitri had made the threat before, but that was normal. The Ivankovs always threatened her. But these last few times she was called out, she had a deep-rooted suspicion that she'd find herself in one of her welded coffins.

Chapter 9

Liam let out a frustrated breath. Morgan was trying to tell her circumstances using soft words. He didn't need the G-rated version of her story. He needed to know everything.

Liam lowered the tailgate of the truck and sat down, motioning for her to sit as well. When she hesitantly sat down next to him, he said, "I have a friend that is FBI — or was. He asked if I could find out more about your family, specifically you, though I don't think he fully knew that at the time."

"The FBI knows about me?" Her hand flew to her heart. "What do they know? Am I going to jail?"

Liam shook his head. "Reed's gone dark. He has no sway at the FBI right now. His partner went rogue and took him down in the process. He needed to know your involvement."

"I don't understand how his partner has anything to do with me."

"Reed killed Vitaly Ivankov, her father. Sonya has taken over the business and put a marker on Reed."

"He killed the Russian godfather? Did he know?"

"He was working at the time, so yes, he did know. He didn't do so lightly. He's not an assassin. There was gunfire, and he did what he was trained to do. Reed said he had no choice in the matter, either way. He was cornered, and Sonya's loyalty to her mob family trumped that of the FBI."

"Does this mean she might not know who I am?"

"I'm sure she's known about you for some time. You need to be careful. She's as ruthless as her father."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"Two months ago."

Morgan nodded. "It would make sense. I never felt safe around the family, but over the last two months, I had the impression my time was limited." Morgan frowned. "So, this entire time, you never wanted a job. You wanted information. Were you going to turn me in?"

"I was helping a friend. At first I didn't know why he wanted my help. I didn't even know he had gone dark. I took some time away from work to help him."

He couldn't read Morgan's expression. It seemed as if she was mulling over thoughts. If he had any insight into Morgan's mind, she was figuring out a way to get rid of him.

"When your dad died, you inherited this," Liam said, gesturing to the equipment.

"He had no choice."

"There's always a choice."

Morgan shook her head. "Grandpa started the business in Vegas, and I think that's when they found my dad years later. I'm sure he tried to say no, but I found out quickly that word isn't in their vocabulary. Dad decided to move the company out of Nevada, but that didn't stop the _bratva_. They kept coming after him until —"

"Until he died, and then they came after you."

Morgan nodded. "I think they killed him."

Liam sat quietly for a moment, not knowing what to say. Piper's words came back to him. She had said Morgan took over the family business as soon as their father had died, that Morgan wouldn't let anyone in his office or near the files.

"How do you know?" Liam asked.

"My father drowned. He was a better swimmer than Greer. The only way he could have died in the water is if someone held him under."

"Did you know he was involved with the _bratva_?"

"I didn't know what he did for them, but I knew he was involved. I remember late-night phone calls, last-minute trips to Vegas. Since my mother had passed away by then, I was the one he counted on to watch my sisters."

"What about Walter? Didn't he know?"

Morgan shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I think Dad kept his own counsel. If Grandpa knew, he never let on. And, we do have legitimate clients in Vegas."

Liam lifted a brow. "Like Remy?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Morgan's lips. "You saw through the file."

"I can spot a falsified document within seconds." Liam sighed. "I've had a lot of practice while dealing with Trace."

"Trace?"

"My brother."

Morgan's face widened in comprehension. "That's who you were talking to on the phone earlier."

"His voicemail."

"So, your brother works for you. Where?"

Liam paused, contemplating. It wasn't as if the information was a secret. Morgan could search his name on the web and find out that he owned Cast Again Foundry. But it was one thing to stick his own neck on the line; he didn't want to bring the business into it.

"Never mind," Morgan said quickly. "It's better if I don't know."

"It's not that —"

"No. Really, I don't want to know. It's better that way."

Her words conflicted with the snap in her voice. Why was everything so difficult with Morgan? Liam would be the first to admit that he didn't get along with everyone, but he wasn't used to being pushed away so quickly either.

Morgan stood and walked over to the equipment, then turned around quickly. "You said Sonya was as ruthless as her father."

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Reed told me." Liam hated to lie, but there was no reason to drag the past up now. It filled a dark corner in his mind, one that he never visited, not even in his dreams.

Morgan seemed satisfied with the answer and turned back to the gear. She inventoried, cleaned, reorganized, and ignored Liam. It was as if she was throwing a blockade at him as she focused solely on equipment that she had used a thousand times before.

What was it about her that made him want to run? And yet, here he was trying to help her. She was pretty, but frowned too much. She was smart, but her words were barbed. So, what was it about her?

No. It wasn't about Morgan. He had to remember he was doing this for Reed. Helping Morgan was only a bonus that didn't really amount to much.

Then why did his eyes follow her so intensely?

* * *

Morgan felt Liam watching her. She wasn't sure what to make of it. He was probably sickened by what she'd been doing these last few years. He wasn't the only one. Every time she was called out, every time she saw the victim, every time she woke up in the middle of the night, it was a testament to her weakness. If she were stronger she could have found a way to stop the _bratva_. But she couldn't find a way.

It didn't stop her from trying.

"I saved a file," she said, not turning to look at Liam. She didn't want to see his reaction, to witness his judgment.

"What kind of file?"

"It gives locations of each victim that I know of. If I . . ." Morgan swallowed. "It's on a timer that I reset every week. If I should die, the file will be sent to the police."

The truck squeaked as Liam stood from the tailgate. His footsteps grew close.

"There were many times I wanted to send it on my own," Morgan continued. "But, I didn't. I'm a coward." She turned to face Liam, not knowing why she was admitting her faults. She'd never confessed to anyone else. Maybe because he'd already judged her she thought it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't hurt.

"You were protecting your family," he said.

"I was allowing more people to be killed." Morgan curled her hands into fists, summoning strength that she didn't allow herself before. "I'm ending this today."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm done working for them. I'm done burying their crimes."

Liam's brow furrowed. "What are you planning?"

She hadn't been planning anything, not yet anyway. But this had to stop. Her soul couldn't take much more of it. "I don't know. But I'll think of something. I have to, don't I? You've now been dragged into this as well."

"I can fend for myself," he said, stepping closer to her. "I don't need you playing martyr for my sake."

Morgan laughed. "I'm not playing martyr for anyone. I don't plan on dying today." She stepped back, allowing more space between them.

"If I'm going to help you, I need to know exactly what you're planning."

"I won't know until I get the call."

Whatever happened today, it would be the end. She'd make sure of it.

* * *

Liam retreated to the tailgate, distancing himself from Morgan. When she said she was done working for the _bratva_ , it was as if she welded her own coffin closed. Morgan knew what would happen if she denied the Ivankovs. They would kill her without hesitation. So, did she already have a plan and wasn't forthcoming? As he watched her, her shoulders stooped as if they were weighted down by two elephants. She was about ready to collapse under the years of continuous stress.

"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 happy."

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?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, okay. But I'll keep you to your word."

"Text me updates."

"I'm on it."

As Liam disconnected, he took a breath. God help them all if they were relying on Trace.

Chapter 11

Trace stared at his phone. Liam was not the kind to play practical jokes, but this had the makings of one. Had his voice not sounded strained, Trace might have laughed and forgotten the entire mess. But, as it was, it seemed he was needed. Strange, that. Uncomfortable too.

Freedom from Liam. The price was too good not to jump at it. But, how the hell did he find Reed? If Liam couldn't find him, how could he?"

Trace sat in his office chair and looked out at the manicured lawn that stretched out acre after acre beyond the foundry's walls.

Russian mafia?

What in the hell was Liam doing in Vegas?

Trace suddenly smiled. As Liam often reminded him, he didn't have any skills except for being a social butterfly. And he did have connections in Vegas. So, why not put those skills to use? By the time he was through, Liam would choke on his words.

While he was searching for Reed, he'd also put out feelers for the mysterious Morgan.

But first, he wanted to know more information as to why Liam suddenly up and flew to Vegas. Someone had to know what Liam had been up to these last few days.

Bethany.

* * *

Morgan followed Dmitri down the hall and out the back door. She surveyed her surroundings as he led her to a large shed, nearly the size of a one-car garage. Could she make a mad dash to escape? She could probably outrun Dmitri. He was big and bulky. He had strength, not speed. But there was nowhere to run. Even if she could run faster, she wouldn't get far. Morgan's limit was a mile, and that was years ago. From the looks of it, they were far from civilization.

"Inside." Dmitri opened the door and gestured for her.

In the few years Morgan had worked with Dmitri, she'd become used to his one-word commands. At first, she wondered if it was because he didn't know the language well enough to say more. But after a while it seemed as if that was just his nature. And any time she asked him questions, his one words would turn into no words.

Morgan glanced nervously at Dmitri before she stepped inside. He had never hurt her before, not beyond a shove or two when she wouldn't follow orders. She never pressed him further than that before because she knew the outcome. If she didn't do as they said, then there'd be no reason to keep her around. Would Dmitri be the one to do it? She glanced at him again. There was something about him that she couldn't name.

"Teach me."

"What?"

"Teach me. Now." Dmitri pointed to the work bench where a new MIG welder sat.

"Is this my last job? To show you how to weld?" She took a relieved breath, happy that it wasn't Liam. When Sonya ordered her to do one last job and then proceeded to give the order to round up Liam, her mind leaped to a gruesome conclusion. Morgan couldn't do it, not even if they stuck a gun to her head. But, thankfully, it was just to help Dmitri with the MIG. Once he knew how to make proper welds, her work would be done. And then he could snap her neck in two.

This is why she never ate. If she had, she would have lost it on the floor.

He nudged her to the bench.

With shaking hands, Morgan reached for the welding gun to inspect it. "Where's the wire?"

Dmitri's gaze shifted.

"And the gas. There's no gas hooked up." Morgan sat the gun back down on the bench. The MIG looked brand new, straight out of the manufacturer's box. "Sonya said she had someone weld before. What did they use?"

Dmitri pointed to the machine. "This."

Morgan shook her head. "No one welded with this machine."

" _Da_."

" _Nyet_ ," Morgan countered. She had heard that word from him so many times that she now spoke it unconsciously, even occasionally at work. Piper had once wondered if she'd signed up for a Russian language class, to which Morgan quickly nodded and fled the room.

For the first time since she'd met Dmitri, he looked nervous. " _Da_ , the machine was used."

"Who used it?"

"Marik. _Moi brat_."

"Who?"

"My brother."

"Where is he now?"

Dmitri shrugged.

"You don't know where your brother is?" When he didn't answer, Morgan looked around the shed for any of the needed wire or gas tanks. "Dmitri, there's nothing here. Either you tell me what's going on or I'll have to ask Sonya to buy the supplies."

" _Nyet!_ "

"Then tell me."

Sweat beads formed at his brow. "Marik said he welded. He didn't."

"How did he seal the box?"

Dmitri nodded to a shelf in the corner. The only item on it was large bottle of Super Glue.

"He used glue?"

" _Da_."

"Did Sonya find out?"

" _Da_."

Morgan wanted to shake Dmitri. If he could understand every word she said, why couldn't he give her more than one- or two-word answers? But, she didn't need him to say what she already suspected. If Sonya was anything like her father, which it seemed that she was, then Marik was in trouble and Dmitri was next on the chopping block if he didn't get this right.

"Is Marik still alive?"

Dmitri winced. " _Da_ , but . . ."

"Not for long," Morgan filled in. If Dmitri wasn't working for the Ivankov family, she might have felt sorry for him and his brother. But she didn't. He had the same amount of blood on his hands as every other member of this mafia. While he had never hurt her, it was understood that he would if she didn't cooperate. With his size and low brow, she was too afraid to give him an opportunity. "If I help you, I expect help in return."

He raised a brow.

"I know Sonya wants me dead. If I help you, I want you to swear I'll get out of this alive, and with no harm to my family or Liam."

" _Nyet_." He shook his head.

" _Da!_ "

He took a step toward Morgan, glaring. "Sonya kill us both."

Morgan took a step back. She didn't want to be anywhere near Dmitri's fisted hand. "Isn't Marik's life worth the risk? What is Sonya to you anyway?"

Dmitri flexed his hand. " _Vory v zakone_."

Morgan had no idea what that meant, so she waited, knowing he was weighing his options. She hoped he chose Marik. That would allow her to go back to the storage unit and grab the supplies she needed, plus she could leave a message for Liam. He had to be wondering where she was by now and would probably check the storage unit. If she could leave word, then he could get his FBI friend to help. Morgan would never admit to it out loud, but maybe Liam would come in handy after all. As long as Liam stayed far away from her, he would be safe.

"If you help Marik, I help you," Dmitri said.

Morgan didn't fully trust anything Dmitri said. If he found a way out of a promise, he'd take it. But at least it'd give her time.

"You'll need to drive me to the storage unit. I have wire and gas there."

"Nothing funny," he warned.

"Nothing funny." Except a quick note to Liam. Morgan hid her smile as she followed Dmitri out of the shed and into the blistering sun. As long as she stayed on her toes, she might get out alive.

* * *

It didn't take long to crack Bethany's silence. Once she knew Liam was in trouble, she gave Trace all the information she had, which didn't amount to much. But it was a start.

Liam had been working at Brennan Metal Works. Bethany said the company needed Liam's expertise, but something wasn't adding up. Why would a common welding shop need Liam's iron knowledge? And if they did, why didn't he send someone else in his place? A CEO wouldn't bother with something like that, not when he had people to do it for him. Unless it had to do with Reed.

"Do you know if anyone by the name of Reed or Morgan works at Brennan?" Trace asked Bethany. He leaned over the back of her chair to get a better look at the computer screen.

"I see Morgan is the manager," Bethany said, clicking on the website. "But there's no mention of Reed."

Trace could have leaned over Bethany all day. Not only did she wear the most intriguing perfume blend, but her blouse was unbuttoned below office standards. He always wondered why Liam never said anything to Bethany, but then he realized Liam probably never noticed the pretty executive assistant who was trying her best to catch his eye. The poor girl.

"Care to have dinner with me tonight?" he casually asked. He knew what her answer would be, but what was the harm in asking? Bethany was sure to keep a bed warm for at least a few nights.

"No."

Trace smiled at her. She was trying so hard to look affronted that he would ask such a thing, but a slight blush gave her away. If he really wanted to sway her, he could. But first he had to find Reed. If he ever wanted to get Liam off his back, he had to think about business before pleasure. But after he was through, it'd be pleasure. One hundred percent pleasure.

* * *

As Dmitri drove through the gate, Morgan's heart dropped a foot. Liam was there, waiting at the truck. Her one hope at being saved was now trapped.

"It's only Liam," she said to Dmitri, keeping an eye on the gun he held. His grip tightened around the handle.

Dmitri angled the car, effectively blocking Liam between the rows of storage lockers. He swung out, gun trained on Liam.

"Hands!" Dmitri bellowed.

As soon as Liam slid off of the tailgate and raised his hands, Morgan marched over to him, ignoring their precarious positions.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I thought it'd be obvious," Liam said, eyeing the gun-wielding man. "I was looking for you."

"Enough talk." Dmitri shook the gun at Liam.

"Don't kill him," Morgan said.

"He knows too much."

"He knows nothing," Morgan stated. "We'll need him if you want to help Marik."

Dmitri didn't look convinced. In fact, his nostrils flared. "This is trick."

"I promise it's not," she said. "Liam came to assist me."

"Assist with what?"

Morgan paused, grappling for an excuse. If she didn't say something soon, Liam was as good as dead. From the look in Liam's eyes, he knew it too.

"I wanted him to clean out the storage unit," she finally blurted. "I knew this was the last job. I wanted all loose ends tied."

"How did you know?" Dmitri asked.

"Woman's intuition." Morgan knew Dmitri wouldn't argue with her, even though he looked as if he wanted to. "Liam can help Marik."

"How?"

For crying out loud, she didn't know. It wasn't like they needed two welders. Liam was good with sales, but that didn't help their current predicament. If only he would have stayed at the hotel until she wrote him a note. Then he could've worked undercover without anyone being the wiser.

"Who is Marik?" Liam asked, his hands falling to his sides. He had that tone in his voice, the same one he'd had when she first met him and he'd tried to take over the business. He was about to do the same now. Only this time, he didn't know what he was up against.

"Marik is Dmitri's brother," Morgan said, trying to signal him to stand down by glaring. If he asked too many questions, Dmitri would grow nervous.

"Why does Marik need help?" Liam asked, staring strangely at Morgan. "Do you have something in your eye?"

"No," she snapped, rubbing her eye anyway. "Marik was told to weld a box closed, and he used glue instead."

"And now he's in trouble. How much trouble?" Liam asked, now looking to Dmitri. "If you want my help, please lower the gun."

Dmitri didn't budge, not that Morgan expected him to.

"Dmitri has to learn how to weld or he'll be in the hot seat too. They don't even have the proper supplies. It'd have been impossible for Marik to accomplish anything with what they had."

"And by helping them, they will help us?" Liam asked, clearly suspicious.

Morgan leaned in. "It's the best I could do at the time. As soon as Dmitri can weld, we're superfluous."

"Enough talk," Dmitri growled.

"Do you know where Marik is?" Liam asked Dmitri, ignoring his souring mood.

" _Nyet_."

"But you must have some idea," Liam pressed.

Dmitri nodded.

"Perfect." Liam eyes lit. "We'll get your brother, and you convince Sonya that Morgan is dead."

Dmitri scowled, re-aiming the gun. "How do you know about Sonya?"

Without missing a beat, Liam replied, "Everyone knows about Sonya, including the FBI. If you want to get your brother out alive, we need to act before they do."

"FBI?" Dmitri faltered. "They will deport Marik. He can't go back to Russia."

"Why not?" Morgan asked. "Wouldn't it be safer there?"

Dmitri shook his head. "He'd be dead as soon as the plane landed."

Dmitri definitely had a weak spot. Saving his brother was the only reason he hadn't shot Liam yet. It was a stepping stone. If they could find Marik and get him out from under Sonya's thumb, then Dmitri could . . . couldn't do anything. As soon as he was found out, he'd be next in line for the firing squad. While Morgan didn't relish the thought of anyone being murdered, Dmitri would use her as a shield if he could. If he goes down, they all go down.

"What are you thinking?" Liam asked, ripping Morgan away from her thoughts.

"If we free Marik, then Sonya will immediately suspect Dmitri. They both have to get out. What we need is a plan. We have to either unseat Sonya or move Marik and Dmitri out of her reach."

"And if we do this, Dmitri will promise to help and not sell us out, correct?" Liam asked, focusing on Dmitri.

Dmitri scowled, but finally nodded. His nod was anything but reassuring.

"Let's pack up the gear," Liam said. "We'll come up with a plan on the way."

"I will have your phone first," Dmitri said, holding out his hand.

Liam frowned but handed over his phone as requested.

As Morgan walked to the storage unit, Liam moved next to her, placing his hand on her lower back. A show of protection? If he had done that back in Waterfield she would have slapped his hand away. Now, it was comforting. That small gesture reaffirmed she wasn't alone. For once in her life, someone had her back. That it was Liam was a surprise. And not as unpleasant as she would have suspected.
Chapter 12

Trace opened the door to Brennan Metal Works and stepped inside. The office was small and crowded with shelving and old, dusty office items. While he didn't give his brother many kudos, he did have to give Liam props for having a stylish, eye-catching office. Of course, he couldn't say the same for Liam's private office. That was an eyesore. But this place was a dump compared to the pristine environment he was forced to go to five days a week.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked. The look in her eye frightened him a bit. He wasn't sure in which way she might want to help him.

With her bright hair, he should've noticed her right away. However, the wood paneling made the office darker than what it should be and she blended into the cluttered surroundings.

"I'm looking for Morgan Brennan."

"She'll be out of town for a few days." She stood and stretched out her hand to shake Trace's. The result was way too much cleavage for a workday and no happy hour. "My name is Charlene. Can I be of assistance?"

"Would you happen to know Reed Taylor?" Trace wasn't sure of Morgan and Reed's connection, but it had to be something to do with this dump.

"No, sorry."

"Charlene, can you —" A pretty, honey-blonde gem popped out of a private office only to stop when she spotted Trace. "Oh, I didn't realize you were busy. I'll talk to you later."

Charlene waved her to come forward. "Piper, you don't happen to know of anyone by the name of Reed Taylor, do you?"

"Um, no." Her nose wrinkled adorably. "Is he a client?"

Charlene shook her head.

Trace maneuvered over to Piper, his hand already taking hers. "I'm Trace Hayes, Liam's brother. He's sent me on a wild mission to find Reed Taylor."

"You're Liam's brother?" Piper look at him skeptically.

"We don't look alike. Different mothers and all that." He shrugged. While he would never be as handsome as Liam, he had a thousand times the personality. And it wasn't as if he was hideous. He just couldn't compete with Liam. He doubted many could. But he did just fine, thank you very much.

"Oh, well, I'm not sure how to help you. I don't know anyone by the name of Reed Taylor. Liam went with Morgan to Vegas." Her lips turned down. "Well, at least I think he did. Morgan never lets anyone go on Vegas trips with her. But when he didn't show today, I suspected he might have twisted her arm after . . ."

"After?" Trace prompted.

"Well, they might've had a late night together last night. But I still wouldn't think Morgan would've let him go."

"My brother does what he wants. If he sets his mind to something, no one can stop him." But it was interesting that Liam had a "late night." The poor old dog never got out much. Maybe it'd do him some good. If nothing else, it might lessen the time Liam had to spend hounding him.

Piper smiled, and a sweet dimple appeared. "Sounds like Morgan."

Trace sighed dramatically for effect. "It sounds like we've both been through a lot." Trace smiled when she giggled.

There was something about Piper that was refreshing. She seemed so unassuming. Nothing like the clawing socialites he normally dated. Maybe Liam was on to something when he came to lend his talents here.

Sadly, any thoughts of an interlude with Piper would have to wait. He had his trust fund to think about. If he wanted it released in full, he'd have to find Reed. So far, all of Reed's old childhood haunts led to dead-ends. After college, he disappeared from the upper crust. His mother wouldn't even speak about him other than to say he was a grand disappointment. She had no idea of his whereabouts.

"Well, I guess I'm off to Vegas," Trace said.

"Why Vegas? Is Reed there?" Piper asked.

"I have my suspicions. It seems there's a party going on, and I haven't been invited." Trace was about to leave when he realized he was still holding Piper's hand. He smiled slightly, wondering if he could make her giggle one more time. He watched her as he brought her hand to his lips. When he kissed her soft skin, it produced the desired effect. She giggled, then snatched her hand away when she noticed a ponytailed man had walked into the room.

"Oh, Van, Grandpa has the sketch in his office." Piper blushed and stepped away from Trace. "He said you could work on it whenever you have time, but don't rush."

Van's eyes were trained on Trace. He finally ripped them away to look at Piper. "When will he be back?"

"In an hour or two."

"I'll take the sketch now. Thanks, baby girl." Van stood for a moment as if he wasn't sure he wanted to leave quite yet.

Interesting.

Trace smiled at Piper. "Well, I guess I'm off to catch a plane. I'm sure I'll see you around." Before he could take more than two steps, Piper grabbed his arm.

"Wait. I'm coming with you."

"What?" Both Trace and Van asked at the same time.

"I've had a bad feeling ever since Morgan left," she said. "And now you're here asking questions. I want to come, too."

"No," Both Trace and Van said at the same time, then glared at each other.

"Charlene, book me on the next flight to Vegas," Piper said, and then she turned to Trace. "Morgan has been keeping a secret for way too long, and I think it's finally caught up to her. We can go together, or I'll go alone."

"Baby girl," Van started, only to be silenced by Piper.

"Stop calling me that. I'm not twelve anymore." Piper opened the door, calling back to Charlene. "Forward me the ticket information when you get it. I'm going home to pack."

"Charlene, don't," Van snapped.

Piper rounded on him, fire in her denim eyes.

"Piper, I think Papa Bear might know what's going on. Let's talk to him before you storm over to Vegas."

Papa Bear? Trace glanced at Piper for confirmation he wasn't hearing things wrong. When she hesitantly nodded to Van, he assumed he must have heard correctly.

Van turned to Trace. "You can go."

"I'm here on Liam's request."

Van was about to argue but stopped when Piper flung open the shop door, calling for Papa Bear. A few moments later, a large lumbering man ducked through the door. Now, the name made sense.

"Can we talk privately for a moment?" Van asked Papa Bear, nodding toward an office a few yards away.

Piper stepped in between the men. "We can all talk here."

Trace watched as Papa Bear looked over Piper's head to silently question Van. Trace almost felt sorry for Van. He actually looked startled that Piper was calling the shots. From the few minutes Trace had known Piper, he thought her more docile and pliable than what she currently was with her hands on her hips, eyeing the two men as if she was going to sink her teeth in.

"I think Morgan is in trouble, and I'm going to Vegas to find her." She scowled at the men. "If either of you two has something of value to say, please say it now; otherwise, I'm leaving."

"I can't say. I've been sworn to secrecy," Papa Bear muttered, then he glared at Van.

Trace was sure they were having a silent conversation.

"If you don't say, then I'm going to Vegas," Piper stated. "And what do you think I'll find when I get there?"

"A bunch of slot machines. Alcohol, if I'm lucky," Trace murmured to himself.

Piper heard him and crossed her arms.

"Just tell her," Van said to Papa Bear. "If Liam followed Morgan to Vegas, he knows what's going on. You wouldn't want Piper getting mixed up in that."

"But I don't know everything," Papa Bear stated. "Most of it I pieced together. Morgan never acknowledged if I was right, just swore me to keep silent."

"She would've denied it if it was wrong," Piper said.

"All I have is a name," Papa Bear said. "I overheard her talking a couple of years ago. But if the name is correct, it's not a family you want to mess with."

"Who?"

Papa Bear sighed. "If I tell you, you have to promise to stay here. Let Liam and Morgan work alone."

"I can't promise that."

"Then you're safer going and not finding her."

Piper scowled. "I'm getting Greer involved."

Trace thought that if Piper would shed a few tears she'd be much more effective, but whoever Greer was, just her name seemed to strike fear into both men.

He eyed the door, wondering if they'd notice if he slipped out. He didn't think Van or Papa Bear would care, but he didn't want Piper trailing after him. She was cute, and he was definitely going to see if he could make some headway on that score, but she'd only slow him down if she came with him.

"No, don't," Papa Bear sighed. "Listen, as far as I know, Morgan goes to Vegas to work for the Ivankovs. Like I said, they aren't people you want to mess with. If you go skipping off to Vegas, you'll put Morgan at risk. No one can know." Papa Bear eyed Trace. "No one."

"Who are they?" Piper asked. "And why would she work for them if they're so dangerous?"

Van's brow creased. "It started a long time ago with your dad. Morgan had no choice but to continue."

"Why didn't I know this?" she demanded.

"You were just a young girl," Van said.

"And we don't know the whole story," Papa Bear inserted. "Your dad and Morgan have been very secretive. What we know, we've pieced together."

Trace didn't need to hear anymore. Thanks to Papa Bear and Van reasoning with Piper, he now had a lead. This wouldn't be bad at all. Now, he just had to visit his old chum Edik. If there was one thing Edik excelled at, it was knowing who's who in all the hot spots. He might even know an Ivankov.

He'd have Reed wrapped up in a bow for Liam within twenty-four hours, with plenty of time for dice, cocktails, and a bit of sport; the female variety, of course.

Now, he just had to score a last-minute ticket to Vegas. Easily done when a pretty little flight attendant keeps a jump seat warm for him. He always made sure to thank her properly.

* * *

Liam didn't notice them at first, the tattoos. It wasn't until Dmitri helped lift the tank onto the truck that Liam became aware. They were faded, but the message was clear. Dmitri was from the zone.

Did Morgan even realize how far in she was? Dmitri wouldn't allow them to live, even after helping his brother.

The cathedral tattoo had four domes. Four domes, four prison sentences. Liam warily studied Dmitri. " _Vory v zakone?_ "

Dmitri looked hard at Liam. " _Da_."

That simple word of acknowledgement sealed their fate.

"Why did you say that?" Morgan quietly asked Liam when Dmitri moved away. "Dmitri had said it before, but you couldn't have possibly known. What does it mean?"

"Nothing." Liam walked over to the driver's side door. He didn't want to worry Morgan. "We have everything loaded. Should we go?"

Dmitri took the keys out of Liam's hand and pushed him out of the way. "Get in."

"But your car —" Morgan started.

Dmitri drew his gun. "Get in."

As all three crammed into the front bench seat together, Liam wondered if Dmitri knew he could be overpowered in these tight conditions. Most likely he did. But even if they did overpower him, it'd only temporarily solve their problem. The _bratva_ knew where to find Morgan, and they'd come to settle the score.

So, feeling completely useless and powerless, Liam sat still. Well, maybe not completely useless. He knew something about the _vory v zakone_. Tattoos, especially those given in Russian prisons, meant something. They were not decorations. Status symbols, murders, theft, extortion, prison sentences. It was all there. Every mark on Dmitri's body served as a warning.

Dmitri was no ordinary thug. Being a _vory v zakone_ meant he had to follow an extensive list of codes. The most major was shunning all authority. Killing police, businessmen, or politicians; he wouldn't think twice. And, he had to reject all family.

So, what of his brother Marik? If Dmitri was following the code to the letter, he wouldn't aid Marik. Unless Marik was _vory v zakone_ as well.

Morgan scooted closer to Liam, allowing her extra space between Dmitri. Her legs pressed against his, her shoulder rested against his. His response was automatic. He didn't even have time to think better of it when his arm circled around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She pulled away slightly, turning her head to silently question him.

"Relax," Liam whispered.

She was hesitant at first, but finally she eased back and was soft against him, even allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. The Morgan he had met a couple of days ago would have filled his ears with protests. He might still hear them later. This Morgan was too stressed and worried to fight. He could say the same thing about himself. Not even Trace could provoke him right now.

Chapter 13

Morgan helped carry the equipment into the shed and began setting it up. It gave her mind something else to think about besides . . . well, besides everything. She didn't know what _vory v zakone_ meant, but Dmitri was not happy when Liam had said it. She'd have to ask Liam about it again. But not now. Dmitri was watching her closely.

"Show me," Dmitri said.

"Grab the spool of wire," Morgan said. "You'll place it here." She pointed to the welder.

Dmitri lifted the heavy coil with ease and placed it onto the welder. Morgan looked up to study the ceiling and walls.

"You don't have ventilation in here," she said. "You'll need to keep the doors open while you work. The fumes are toxic."

Dmitri glanced at the shed doors and then at Liam. Pulling a length of rope from a hook, he stepped toward Liam.

"I don't think that's necessary," Liam said, retreating from Dmitri.

Dmitri didn't bother responding. Liam was backed into a corner within a few steps. Morgan didn't interfere. Being tied up was a lot better than being dead. As long as her hands were free, she could aid Liam later. Liam must have had the same thought because he held his arms forward, a curse escaping his lips when Dmitri secured the rope.

When Liam had put his arm around her in the truck, her initial reaction was to move away. But that would have set her closer to Dmitri. When Liam then whispered "relax." she suddenly gave up her fight against him. He was not the bad guy. He was actually very nice. Thoughtful. Protective. Smart. Handsome. He was all those things and more. Had they met under different circumstances she might have formed a different first impression. Now, as she spent more time with him, her impression kept shifting. It was uncomfortable knowing she'd judged him too soon and too harshly. She wouldn't blame herself too much. He did provoke her at that first introduction.

Liam now sat on a stool in the corner, his hands tied but not his feet. He could still run, if needed.

Morgan tossed a face shield to Dmitri. "Put it on. We'll practice." She snuck one last peek at Liam before she slid her own shield on, keeping it propped up so she could speak to Dmitri. "These are auto adjusting. They will darken as soon as the first spark is detected. It takes a little bit of time to adjust to it."

Morgan held the welding gun to show Dmitri. "When you press the trigger, the wire will come out. If you're not careful, you'll end up with a pile of wire on the bench or floor."

She set two scrap metal pieces together, slipped on work gloves, and flipped the shield in place. "Liam, close your eyes." With a press of the trigger, she welded the pieces together, sparks spitting fire onto the workbench, her hands, and arms. She could feel the snapping heat through her clothing. After welding for so many years, the sensation was like a phantom. She knew it was there, but it was never quite present either.

She was about to hand the welder over to Dmitri to practice, but then noticed he was wearing a T-shirt. "You'll need to wear long sleeves."

Dmitri didn't acknowledge her words, but took the gun instead. He put the nose to the scrap metal and pressed the trigger. He wasn't fazed at all. The crackling sparks rained down on his tattooed arms and he didn't pull back or stop. It wasn't a safe thing to do. Welding was like playing with the sun. Without proper safety precautions it could ruin eyes and skin.

Dmitri said something in Russian and tossed down the gun. She was pretty sure it was a curse. He tended to use that word a lot when she was around.

Morgan glanced at his work. "You used too much wire." She could sense his glare from behind the shield. "You just need practice," she said. "Keep making lines. Take it slow and steady."

He tried again, this time welding too slowly and burning through the metal. "You said slow," he barked. "Now there's hole."

"Weld somewhere in between," she said.

He cursed again, but then touched the wire to the metal and produced a decent line.

"Not bad," she said.

Dmitri pulled off the shield to get a better look. He seemed pleased with himself, even smiling.

When his phone rang, he set down the gun to answer it. He spoke in Russian, flicking his gaze to Morgan every once in a while. Suspecting he was talking about her, she glanced at Liam to see if he understood. He seemed to know a little Russian and knew Dmitri was a _vory v_ something or other, which made her wonder how he knew. Did he take a class in Russian? Maybe in his other line of work he had to know such information.

She wished she would have asked him what he did for a living instead of shutting down the conversation. At least she might have insight into what he would know.

Liam was listening intently, a puzzled expression on his face. Whether or not he understood Russian, he must have at least comprehended a word or two. Sensing that Morgan was watching him, he looked at her and mouthed the words, "Don't worry."

If only she could have believed those words.

* * *

Trace felt like he had come home. The dimmed lights, the flowing drinks, the sensually dressed women, and the high-stakes cards all called to him. He hadn't been in Vegas for at least a year, if not longer. Not since Liam took over his funds and put a stop to his spending. Now, he was lucky if he could afford clothing.

Trace adjusted the sleeves on his newly acquired tuxedo and looked around the swanky high-stakes room. Luckily, Liam's clothes fit him perfectly. And, no matter how frugal Liam could be, he always had nice clothes. It was the only thing they agreed on.

Trace noticed his current threads were already making an impression. He spotted a woman about ten years his senior eyeing him from across the room. She was sitting in a cluster of chairs, filled with elegantly dressed patrons. She obviously had some money, or knew someone who did. His thoughts were confirmed when a man in his fifties took her hand to kiss it.

Trace winked at the woman, who was still looking at him, ignoring her benefactor. He then flagged down a cocktail server. The drinks in here were free, thank God. Normally a person would have to put down serious blunt to enter this part of the casino, but thankfully, his name got him in. And this was where he hoped to find Edik. If Edik was anything, he was predictable.

Once Trace placed his drink order, he walked among the few tables, glancing at the stacks of chips piled in front of players. They each had twenty times the amount Liam grudgingly forked over to Trace for his monthly "allowance."

"You are looking for someone," a woman's voice floated over him. Clearly a Russian accent, though light and soft, smoothing the normally butchered letters back into their American sound.

He glanced over his shoulder, pleasantly surprised to find the woman he had been eyeing before. She had shaken off the man who lined her pockets, or currently, her red silk dress that clung nicely along her curves.

She was pretty with dark hair and eyes. She had all of the bountiful attributes he normally sought out in a woman, plus she was older. A bonus for him, who enjoyed a more-experienced woman. Her hand gently touched his upper arm, stroking it slowly, softly.

If she was Russian, then he was definitely in the right casino. While Edik was American born and raised, he was tight within the Russian community. So tight, he'd moved here permanently. That's when Trace lost track of him.

"Will you not answer?" she asked.

He smiled, remembering her previous question. He clasped his hand over hers. "What if I'm looking for you?"

She returned the smile. "Then I should be flattered, but I think you are looking for someone else."

He was tempted to flirt with her, see how far she was willing to go while her bank account was still in the room, casually speaking with acquaintances and glancing at them every so often. But, he was afraid any more smiles or touches and the man would interfere and Trace's access to the beauty would be cut short.

"Would you happen to know Reed Taylor?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, is he supposed to be here? I don't see anyone except the regulars. And you." A practiced sultry smile slipped easily onto her lips.

"What about Edik?" For the life of him, he couldn't remember Edik's surname.

"You are Edik's friend?" She seemed pleased. "He is not here tonight but comes in a few nights a week."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

She shook her head. "He sometimes has to work."

"Work?" Trace questioned. Edik had a bigger trust fund than Trace did. He always bragged his fortune would keep him entertained for ten lifetimes. So, why would he work? Maybe they were speaking of two different people. "What does he do?"

The beauty bit her lip. "I don't know."

Was she nervous? "Do you have his phone number?"

"No. But if you stay here long enough, you'll find him."

Trace glanced at Mr. Bank Account, wondering how much time he had left. It didn't look like very long. The man was already shaking a person's hand, inching his way over.

"Do you know the Ivankovs?" Trace asked.

Startled, her eyes locked onto his. "Do not speak of them."

"Why?"

She shook her head, pulling away.

"Don't go," Trace said. "I need your help."

"I can't help you." Her hand slipped away and she turned, pausing for a moment. "Do not ask anyone here about them. You will get hurt." She hurried back and positioned herself next to her paycheck, not daring to make eye contact with Trace any longer.

Well, that was odd. He surveyed the room in a new light. Whoever these people were, they had something to do with the Ivankovs. It was the only reason to warn him away. And if Edik played here, then he might know about Reed Taylor. Somehow they must know each other. He had to find Edik and ask him.

Trace hated solving puzzles. They were tedious headaches.

The cocktail server returned with his ordered drink.

"Thank you," he said, swirling the drink. He wanted to taste the mind-numbing alcohol, drench every coherent cell in its liquid. But just as he was going to take his first sip, Liam's scolding voice echoed in his head. "Yes, yes," Trace muttered to himself, setting the drink down at a nearby table. The cocktail didn't look all that good anyway. There was a bit of white powder clinging to the glass. The dishwasher must need maintenance, or . . . Trace's eyes darted around the room. No one was paying attention to him. It was almost as if they didn't want to make eye contact.

Trace never had much of a sixth sense. Liam always told him if he was ever to reincarnate as a cat, he'd blow through his nine lives before a year was out. Trace always tended to do instead of think, and never in all of his past scrapes did he see the peril beforehand. It wasn't until after Liam rescued him that he realized his mistakes. But now, something told him to get out of the casino as quickly as possible.

He picked up the glass, pretending to drink. If the drink was drugged like he thought, they'd let him walk away, knowing they could deal with him later.

And Edik hung out here? This wasn't the company his friend normally chose to keep. And working? Something was wrong here.

Trace took his last pretend sip and placed the glass back down on the table, making his exit. It wasn't until he turned his back to leave that he felt a tingling sensation prickling the back of his neck. He suspected that if he turned around, he'd find every eye on him.

But there wasn't enough money in the world to make him turn around. Instead, he walked at an even pace, praying he'd make it to his rental car before anyone realized he hadn't actually ingested the white powder.

As he exited the casino, the sound of footsteps in a quiet parking lot alerted him that he was not in the clear.

Chapter 14

Morgan was done. Dmitri knew as much as she could teach him without an apprenticeship. His welds were still lumpy, but it wouldn't matter. He wasn't putting together show pieces, just coffins.

His prior phone call still bothered her, but he hadn't said anything and went back to practicing. Maybe Liam was right; maybe it was nothing to panic about just yet. But now that she'd told Dmitri all that she could, what would happen next? She was now useless to him.

Dmitri turned off the welder. "Box will come soon."

Morgan nodded, peeking at Liam. He discreetly nodded back to her. She had no idea what that was supposed to signal. Maybe he was just acknowledging that he'd heard.

"You wait here. No funny business." Dmitri walked through the open door, slamming it closed behind him. She heard the metal scrape of the bolt locking both her and Liam inside.

"I'm surprised he didn't tie me up as well." Morgan hurried over to Liam, reaching for the rope binding his wrists. "We have to get out of here. I have a feeling the box is for us."

Liam didn't say anything, just watched Morgan fumble with the knot.

"What is _vory v_ whatever?"

"It translates to thieves in law," he said.

Morgan slipped the rope off, freeing Liam. "Is that significant?"

"I'll explain later," he said, moving about the shed. "We could use the welder to burn through the hinges."

"We'd need an extension cord to reach it." Morgan scanned the shed. Other than the welder, there wasn't much in the shed they could use. No windows to break. The shed was wooden, so they couldn't even use the welder on the side to create a hole.

Liam leaned into the door, looking through the small gap. "The bolt is thick."

"Is there any way to wiggle it open?"

Liam shook the door, but it barely budged. "It seems solid."

"Can we break it off?"

"I don't think so. We'd need something to ram it with."

Morgan inspected Liam, trailing her eyes along his form. He might have enough muscle to break it if he put his shoulder into it.

He propped his hands on his hips. "Your thoughts are coming out loud and clear."

"We're running out of time. Unless you have a better idea. . ."

Liam stared at the door as if sizing up an opponent. "This is going to hurt."

"No worse than a bullet between the eyes."

He frowned at her. "Move back a little."

Morgan stepped out of his way. He took a running start, throwing all of his weight at the door. There was a loud crack, but the door remained locked. Liam held his arm, glaring at the door.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Just a little pain. I'll be fine."

"It sounded like the wood cracked. Maybe I could try to break it the rest of the way."

"No, I can try again."

"I can do it," she said, positioning herself.

His hand clamped around her shoulder. "I don't think you should."

Morgan flicked off his hand and charged at the door, turning her shoulder into it right before contact. She bounced off the door, not inflicting any damage except to her arm. Her eyes flooded with tears as she gripped her arm and fell to the floor.

Liam knelt beside her. "How badly does it hurt?"

Morgan couldn't answer, she couldn't speak. Her words were blocked by the pain.

"Take a few deep breaths," he said. Liam studied the door. "I don't think either of us will break it down. Do you see those cross supports? They reinforce the door."

Morgan couldn't see anything except the ceiling she focused on to keep the pain at bay. It was no wonder Dmitri didn't bother tying her up as well. He knew they wouldn't be able to break out. Now, she wished he would have bound her. She might not have tried such a stupid stunt.

"Feeling any better?" Liam asked, lightly touching her arm.

"It's throbbing."

"Can you move it?"

Morgan didn't want to; she knew it was going to hurt. But she didn't want to look weak in front of Liam.

Slowly, she tested her arm, lifting it just a fraction.

"How does it feel?"

Morgan wanted to cry. The pain pulsed as if it was a raging beast. "It hurts," she gritted, not wanting to reveal how much.

"Your arm is swelling." He stripped off his shirt and began tearing it.

"What are you doing?" she squawked, finally thankful for the pain so she could focus on something other than the fact that he was now shirtless. She had been right about his physique. He was indeed toned, but not overly so. Just right.

"I'm making you a sling." He bit down on a stubborn thread, ripping the material. "You might have a break or fracture. I don't want to take any chances."

"What's the point? We'll be dead in a few hours anyway."

"Don't say that," he scolded.

Morgan was not usually a pessimist. Normally, she looked at life as an obstacle course that she clawed her way through or died trying. Unfortunately, the dying part was going to happen sooner rather than later. It wasn't that she was giving up, but she was tired of trying. Tired of always being on edge, watching her back. She was just sad that she took Liam down in the process. He didn't deserve her fate.

"I'm sorry," she said. "The reason I pushed you away before was because I didn't want you to get hurt. I didn't want the _bratva_ to know about you."

He stared at her silently for a moment. "It's okay. I get it. In fact, I would've done the same thing."

"Yes, but I could've been more pleasant about it. I was harsh, and that's not normally who I am."

"I judge a person by how they treat their employees and coworkers. I saw how you interact with them and they with you. Don't judge yourself by our first meeting. I wasn't on my best behavior." He tore another strip and then looked at her. "That's not normally how I react either. We got off on the wrong foot. There's nothing more to be said."

"Then, how about thank you," Morgan said, feeling a surge of warmth for Liam. "You didn't have to help and yet you did. I know it was for your friend, Reed, but I'm grateful you are here with me."

"The reason I came to your office had everything to do with Reed. But the reason I'm here with you has nothing to do with him." Liam bent down and tucked his hands underneath Morgan's arms. "Keep your arm secure. I'm going to lift you so I can tie the sling around."

Morgan bit back a yelp of pain as he lifted her to her feet and then brought her to the stool. She sat down, thankful for the support. Liam proceeded to wrap the material around her. She wanted him to explain what he had meant. If he wasn't here for Reed, who was he here for? Certainly it couldn't be for her. Could it?

As he knelt in front of her, tying and adjusting the makeshift sling, his face only inches from hers, she fell silent, soaking in this other side of Liam that was becoming harder and harder to ignore. And if she was honest, she didn't want to ignore it.

Morgan cleared her throat. "Tell me about the thieves in law."

"Let me start at the beginning. Sonya was an exchange student at my school."

"You know her?"

When he tied the last knot, he nodded and sat against the wall next to Morgan. "Reed and I became friends with her, and I wanted to know about her culture. I read everything I could about the Russian culture, history, language, anything I could find."

"You liked her." No one would go out of their way to learn so much if they didn't like the person.

"We dated for a while."

Morgan nearly choked. "You dated? And yet we're stuck in her shed waiting to die. What in the hell did you do?" If Morgan had two good arms, she would have strangled him. No wonder he came here. It had nothing to do with Reed or her. It had everything to do with Sonya. "If you're trying to get back together with her, I think you're out of luck."

"Let me finish."

She scowled. "Fine."

"As I was researching, I stumbled across the thieves in law. They are bound together by a code they learn in prison from other thieves in law. It's a tight group that you can't access with only one prison sentence. You have to be a career criminal with several sentences backing you. Tattoos they get in prison tell of their criminal history and what kind of ranking they have in the thieves in law."

"And Dmitri has these tattoos?"

"From the few that I saw, he ranks high. He is a career criminal who would kill without hesitation, even if only defending his honor for a few barbed remarks. Defending your honor is still a big deal in Russia. You cannot turn your back on it."

"How does this relate to Sonya?"

"She's an Ivankov. As I was researching, I came across the name over and over again. Her dad was notorious. Ivankov might not have been a thief in law, but he hired many. He used their skills and status to help him. His crimes were being carried out in Russia while he lived comfortably in the U.S."

"And so you ended the relationship with Sonya."

"Would you want a Russian godfather as a father-in-law?" He shook his head. "I tried to end the relationship as nicely as I could. She stated she had nothing to do with her father, that she was going to join the FBI so she could eventually expose him."

"Did you believe her?"

He nodded. "Yes, but it wasn't worth the risk. I was just a kid heading off to college."

"And then what happened?"

"Reed always had a soft spot for Sonya. I imagine he joined the FBI with Sonya to stay close. I'm not exactly sure how it all happened, but they must have been partners at one point. Reed ended up killing her father in a shootout, and she abandoned the FBI, taking Reed down in the process."

"And now you're stuck in the middle of the war."

He sat silently for a moment before saying, "Do you know the saddest part of it all? Many of these career criminals started off as nothing but hungry kids, stealing a few heads of cabbages. They were sent to prison where a hundred men sit in a cell together, sleeping in shifts because there aren't enough beds, half starving, with a good likelihood of never coming out of the zone alive. How could a child survive that?"

Morgan shook her head.

"The ones that make it to the other side . . ." Liam stood, crossing his arms.

"Do you think that happened to Dmitri?"

"He had four domes on his cathedral tattoo, so he's had four prison sentences. Given that he's in his mid-forties, it's very likely he was a child."

Morgan wished she didn't know that. It made her feel sorry for Dmitri. How horrendous was the zone that a person would go in as a hungry child and come out a monster?

"You look worried. I shouldn't have told you," Liam said.

"No. I'm glad you told me. Being ignorant can sometimes be a blessing, but not now."

"How is your arm?"

Morgan had nearly forgotten about the pain as she listened to Liam, but it was still there. "It's a dull, throbbing pain. Nothing to worry about."

"Let's hope it's nothing more than a bruise."

"Now what?" she asked. "Do we just sit here and wait?"

"Do you have a better plan?"

"No, I just don't like waiting for the unknown. What if they don't stop with us? What if they go after my family?"

Liam sat down next to her and took her hand, squeezing it. "Don't worry about what you can't control. We'll stay alert and find a way out of this."

"What about your family? Will they be safe?"

"I have no family."

Morgan frowned. "What about Trace?"

Liam smiled briefly. "He's temporary. Once he has his trust fund, I'll never hear from him again."

"Is that why you hold on to it?"

"Maybe one of the reasons. I'm just afraid he'll squander his life and funds and be left with nothing but a chip on his shoulder."

"What about your parents?"

He started to pull away, but Morgan gripped his hand. His eyes locked with hers. "My mother left when I was four. My dad wanted nothing to do with me and shipped me off to boarding school. I haven't seen him since I took over Trace's funds."

Morgan let go of his hand, sensing he needed space. But he stayed where he was, his hand still resting against hers. Perhaps he didn't need space at all. Perhaps he needed something more. In that instant, she was drawn to him more than she had ever been to any one person. It wasn't that she felt sorry for him; she had a feeling he was probably better off without his parents than with. But she felt a connection that had nothing to do with circumstances and everything to do with the man sitting next to her.

With only a slight hesitation, she leaned over and hugged him. It was awkward using only one arm, and she felt his body stiffen as if wanting to pull away, which made it even more awkward. And that he wasn't hugging her back, well, that was just embarrassing.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice tentative as if she were going to sprout horns and a forked tongue.

"I'm hugging you. Well, I'm trying to. It's a bit tricky with one arm in a sling."

"Why?"

"Because it's between us and wrapped in your shirt." Heavens, she was hugging a shirtless man that she barely knew.

"Not your arm. Why are you hugging me?"

So many questions about one simple hug, and yet she couldn't pull herself away.

"Because I felt like it." With his cheek next to hers, she could feel a smile form.

"Because you felt like it?" he questioned, his arms now circling her.

With his arms around her, she suddenly realized that hugging him had been a bad idea. She felt the tingling sensation of a dormant body now reawakening with his simple touch.

It wasn't that she'd never been with a man before, nor did she shun relationships. Whether it was conscious or unconscious, she had just stopped dating. Morgan knew her priorities, and having a night out was not one of them, especially not after a hard day at work. Now, whatever feelings or emotions she had suppressed were charging to the surface. His touch did that.

Morgan eased out of his arms, only to get trapped by his eyes. Who knew such dark, intelligent eyes could become soft and passionate?

"I'd better —" Morgan was about to stand to give them both some space. With stress levels and adrenaline amped up, there was no telling what a docile hug could become. And the way his eyes lit from his soul, she knew there was not a woman who would turn him away, including herself. But now was not the time. And, unfortunately, the time may never come.

Before she could move away, he leaned in and kissed her. It was tentative at first, just like her hug had been, as if he was expecting her to pull away and slap him. But she didn't. Instead, Morgan savored it. If she was going to die, she wanted one happy memory to take with her. Cherished memories were few and far between in recent years. And this one was definitely at the top of the charts.

Liam lightly traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, waiting patiently for her to kiss him back. It wasn't a long wait, mere seconds before she opened up to him, allowing the back and forth play of sweet kisses. He wasn't timid nor forceful. It was as if he was happy taking what was offered and not demanding more. Liam let go of his need to control and gifted it all to her. And somehow that made her absurdly pleased.
Chapter 15

Liam was drowning in Morgan's kiss, the light wisps of her hair tickling his cheek, her tongue gently playing with his. He should have stopped himself from kissing her. He didn't know what possessed him except for a spot of insanity and living in the moment, something he rarely did. But this kiss, it was everything right. He could not bring himself to be sorry for it.

However, as she slipped her arm around him, her injured arm pressed between them, reality brought him back. He broke the kiss and scooted back, away from her embrace.

Morgan stared at him silently, as if confused. When she lightly touched her kiss-swollen lips, he had to resist the urge to reach out for her again.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"I remembered your injury." Liam could tell that his answer wasn't the one she was looking for. "And because this isn't the right place."

She laughed softly. "There might not ever be a right place."

"Don't say that."

"Why not? I have no illusion about what will happen. If not today, then tomorrow, or the next day. It's been a long time coming, and I've already planned for it."

"You've planned?"

"Will is drawn, funeral services are paid for, burial too, if they find my body."

Morgan spoke as if reading a shopping list. Was she really so prepared that she no longer felt that life was worth fighting for?

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Twenty-eight. You?"

"Thirty." He couldn't imagine preparing his final resting place now, let alone in his twenties. "Come here." Liam reached out his hand to take Morgan's.

She hesitated. "Why?"

"Does there need to be a reason?" With Morgan, there most definitely had to be a reason. She had so many walls erected around herself. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like, living in fear for so long, not allowing yourself to get close to anyone in case they might become the _bratva_ 's negotiation chess piece. "How about I'm cold? You stole my shirt."

A smile twitched onto her lips as if she was fighting to stop it. "It's hot, sweltering Vegas. You're not cold."

"I say I'm cold. Prove me wrong."

"I know you're wrong."

"Prove it."

She glared at him, he smiled back. He liked seeing her spirited, taciturn side. He'd rather see her annoyed than worried.

"Fine," she huffed, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "See? You're warm."

Liam clasped his hand over hers, keeping her in place. "Then humor me." He gently pulled her toward him, keeping in mind her injured arm.

"Stop."

Before Morgan could form more of an argument, Liam had already deposited her on his lap, his arm circling around her waist.

"What are you doing?"

"Holding you." He winced as she squirmed to free herself. He held her in place despite the sometimes painful and sometimes arousing jostling.

"I don't need to be coddled."

"Maybe I need to be near you."

She stopped to look at him. "Why?"

He kissed her again if only to stop the endless questioning and arguing. But now that she was in his lap, her soft skin on his, the kiss veered from a silencing kiss to one of hunger and desperation.

His hand traveled up her leg to her waist, holding her as his lips traveled to her jaw, down to her neck. She smelled like heaven. If only they weren't in a shed on a dirt floor. If only she was in his bed, underneath him, on top of him. Anywhere but here. But when she brought his mouth back to hers, a moan getting lost as their tongues connected, he didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered anymore except for this one moment. When Morgan moved to straddle him, he lost all concept of space and time. There was nothing but her lips, hands, and sweet body molding against his. If she moved much more, he'd lose his mind.

Liam couldn't stop himself from touching her, his hand cupping her breast, his thumb teasing with back and forth caresses. "Sweet angel," he breathed. She was perfection.

A sound caught his attention, but it seemed far away, as if in a deep cave.

"Liam."

"What, angel?"

"I think Dmitri is coming."

The intense warm cloud he had been floating happily in was now ice. He shook his head, ridding himself of that last wonderful feeling. Morgan stood and stepped away. He felt that loss more acutely than he was comfortable with. He stood beside her, ready for Dmitri.

The sound of the bolt sliding open had him fisting his hands. He had no idea what was on the other side of the door, or what would happen once it was open. This could be the end. He stole one last glance at Morgan, understanding why she was always on edge. The fear that was pressing down against his chest, suffocating him, was probably an everyday occurrence to her.

Dmitri swung the door open, his gun pointed. "Come."

Liam and Morgan shared one last glance before they followed Dmitri out into the darkening night.

* * *

Piper drove to the animal shelter in search of Greer. She had tried calling her sister on the phone, but there was no answer. Piper suspected she was cleaning out the cages and left her phone in her purse. When she pulled into the parking lot, she was relieved to find Greer's car in back. Piper parked her truck next to it and ran up the walkway.

Piper knew the layout of the building, and everyone here knew her. She didn't bother checking in at the front desk since it was common for her to stop in for a minute or two. Plus, it was getting late and most of the staff was probably gone for the day.

It didn't take her long to locate Greer exactly where she thought she would be.

"Greer," Piper called, gaining her attention through the sounds of yipping dogs.

Greer turned around, wearing yellow gloves up to her elbows. "Hey, Piper. What brings you here?" Greer smiled and leaned in to whisper, "Coming back to drool over the new doctor with me?"

"No, it's about Morgan. I think she's in trouble."

"Morgan? In trouble?" Greer chuckled. "You're speaking of our supreme, exalted sister. When has she ever been in trouble?"

"Papa Bear and Van said she goes to Vegas to work for the Russian mafia."

"What? When did they say this?"

"Earlier today. I've been trying to reach Morgan and Liam, but I keep getting voicemail."

"Liam's with her?" Greer smiled. "I'm sure they don't want to be disturbed."

"That's not the case."

"Isn't it?"

Piper crossed her arms. "You know Morgan. If she's in Vegas, she's working. Papa Bear and Van know more than they're letting on. I warned them that if they didn't spill it, I'd come to you."

Greer's smile broadened. "And what did they say?"

"They fed me a few tidbits to get me off their backs, and then they said they didn't know anything else."

"Maybe they don't. Morgan is secretive. Even we don't know what she does in Vegas."

"Something bad is going to happen. I can feel it. Liam's brother, Trace, came in the office looking for someone named Reed Taylor. Do you know anyone by that name?"

Greer shook her head. "No, but I'm more curious about Liam's brother. Is he as handsome as Liam?"

"You're missing the point," Piper said and then sighed. "No, he's not as handsome, but he is cute. And he's a sweet talker."

"Did he flirt with you?"

"Maybe a little."

"Was Van there?"

"Yes, Papa Bear and Van."

Greer smiled again. "Interesting. Did Van seem upset Trace was flirting with you?"

"Greer, I need your help." Piper was about to cry. Didn't she understand how important this was? Van didn't give a damn about her anyway. Why would he get upset if someone flirted with her?

"Yes, yes." Greer pulled off her gloves and set them onto a cart. "Let me have a go at the boys. We'll get all the details."

Piper flung her arms around Greer, hugging her. With Greer on board, she'd be sure to get answers. She just hoped it wasn't too late.

* * *

Morgan heaved sheets of steel into the shed, followed closely by Liam and Dmitri. Morgan had the only pair of gloves, and she hated to think of the punishment Liam's hands were taking by hauling the rough metal. Dmitri didn't seem to notice, but she knew Liam's softer office hands had to be torn up by now. They'd been carrying load after load, and with each load, her fears were coming to fruition.

"How's your arm?" Liam asked, tossing the last of the sheets onto the pile.

Morgan had torn off the makeshift sling at the beginning, knowing it'd only get in her way. Liam tried to argue, saying he could carry the load by himself. "It hurts, but it's definitely not broken. I think I just bruised it really good. How are your hands?"

"Don't worry about me, angel."

Morgan turned away. When he'd first called her angel, he was kissing her and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Now, it made her nervous and tongue-tied. Was it just a casual word to him? It felt like a promise to her. Something tangible that she could rely on and look forward to hearing more of. This pile of steel said otherwise.

Dmitri stood at the welder. "Let's begin. Sonya wants these by morning."

"Have you found out for sure where Marik is being held?" Liam asked Dmitri.

" _Nyet_."

Morgan would bet her savings that Dmitri wouldn't tell even if he did find Marik. He trusted no one. "How old were you when you were sent to prison?" It was reckless for her to ask such a question, especially to Dmitri, but he wouldn't shoot her until the boxes were made. He probably wouldn't answer her anyway; he rarely ever did.

Eventually, he surprised her by saying, "Twelve."

"So young?"

" _Da_."

"What did you do?" His feral glare told her she'd crossed the line, so she turned away and picked up the first sheet, dragging it over. "Dmitri, I'll do the welds if you hold the pieces together."

Liam stepped forward, "I can help."

"No, you don't have a shirt. Plus, we only have two face shields. If you want to be helpful, then bring sheets as I'm ready."

Liam didn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he nodded. He really didn't have a choice. His skin would fry next to the welding fire.

Morgan and Dmitri slid the face shields into place, and she made the first cut with the welding gun. Cutting with the welder never made pretty lines, but it didn't really matter since they would never be seen. They were placed forever into walls and floors of new housing and commercial developments, which made it necessary for the coffins to be thin and welded thoroughly. Unfortunately, victims of a large size had to be . . . Morgan pushed the thought out. She had never performed any such grotesque jobs, only saw the aftermath, which was horrifying enough. This would be her last time, and her secret email file would automatically be sent to the police. Her tarnished soul would find peace one way or the other.

Morgan coughed as the fumes drifted up into the shield, giving her an instant headache. She eased off the trigger and flipped up the shield. "Dmitri, there's no airflow in here. I need a fan to blow the fumes out or we'll all end up sick."

" _Da_. There is one in the garage." As he left, he slammed the door closed again and locked it.

Liam hurried over to Morgan. "I have a plan. When Dmitri is distracted with welding, I'll knock him out and we can make a run for it."

"How are you going to knock him out?" she asked, searching for something solid in the shed. "He has a thick head."

"Maybe I can choke him until he passes out," Liam said, but the way his lip curled, the thought didn't sit well with him.

Morgan sighed and massaged her forehead, relieving the tension and first stages of a massive headache. "We might have a bigger problem than Dmitri."

"What?"

"There's enough material here for twenty boxes. I've never had more than one or two. They don't just want _us_ dead. Something big is happening."

"Like what?"

Morgan shook her head. "I don't know. But we'll find out soon."

Liam reached for Morgan, clasping her hand. "We'll get through this."

Morgan desperately wanted to believe him, but she knew the _bratva_ and what they were capable of. She looked at Liam and smiled. Let him stay positive and hopeful. She'd rather he was right than wrong.
Chapter 16

When Piper and Greer had finally made it back to the shop, it was locked up tight for the night. Greer was about to call it quits when Piper remembered the men saying they were going out for a beer after work.

Now, as they stood just inside the door at the bar located only two blocks away from the shop, Piper wanted to run. Greer held her in place as her gaze swept across the bar in search of the two. Piper had already spotted Van. She always did. No matter the crowd, her eyes always found him. Unfortunately, most of the time he was kissing another girl. Tonight was no exception.

"He's such a hussy," Greer said, having spotted Van as well. "I don't know why you've been hung up on him all of these years."

Piper couldn't say why either. Van was always nice to her and others, but he never saw her. If she disappeared tomorrow, he'd never notice. She'd always believed that once she had grown up, he would see her. All those ridiculous childhood rhymes and pleas to grant her a decent chest had worked, but not to gain his attention.

But she was here for Morgan now.

"Greer, pull that woman off of him so we can talk."

"Gladly." Greer marched off in Van's direction.

Piper, never one for conflict, stayed back and watched as Greer tugged the woman away and inserted herself in between. Van looked upset at first, but then realized it was Greer and waved the surprised woman away.

After a few words that seemed to have some heat to them, both Greer and Van looked at Piper. Piper knew that meant she should join them, but her feet didn't seem to move.

"Did Greer catch him kissing?" Papa Bear asked.

Piper looked over to Papa Bear, who was sitting in the corner.

"I always thought they'd be a couple someday," he said, taking a swig of beer from an uncommonly large mug.

"Van and Greer?"

He nodded. "They're always arguing."

"And that would make them a good couple?"

He shrugged. "It's the way they argue. They're honest, not brutal. They'd be good for each other."

Piper wanted to crawl under the table and cry. Did no one see her? Was she invisible? Would she ever find someone to argue with? Because, as ridiculous as it sounded, she'd rather have that than nothing at all.

"What are you doing here?"

Piper glanced up to find Van standing next to her, frowning. Greer was taking large steps to catch up with him.

"Drinking." Piper maneuvered away from Van, giving a nod to Greer and tagging herself out. Greer could deal with the pair.

At the bar, she signaled for the bartender and ordered. Van had always teased her when she drank Shirley Temples, so this time, she bought a Long Island iced tea. Van could tease someone else tonight. Perhaps that redhead he was sucking face with.

Tonight, a strong drink would be just what she needed.

* * *

After the second box was assembled, Morgan flipped up her shield. She had wanted to question Dmitri but was too afraid at first, but now, she had to have answers.

"How many boxes are we making?" she asked.

Dmitri flipped up his shield and eyed her. "Twenty."

That was the quantity Morgan had expected him to say, but it still left her with more questions.

"Why twenty? We've never made more than two or three at a time."

"None of your business."

It was never any of her business. Standard answer. "Is one of these coffins for Marik?"

Dmitri scowled. "Work."

"I'll get back to work, but my shoulder hurts. Let me take a five-minute break."

" _Nyet_. I weld."

Morgan ignored him. "Is Sonya in the house?"

"Why?"

"I just wondered if she knew her old friend Liam was here." Morgan pointed to a stunned Liam, who dropped a steel sheet nearly on his foot. "I'm sure she'd like to know he's here."

Morgan had a feeling Sonya knew exactly who was in the shed. But if Morgan was able to maneuver Liam outside for a reunion, then perhaps Liam could sway Sonya or, at the very least, escape.

"If Sonya want talk, Sonya talk." Dmitri repositioned the shield and took the welding gun. "Hold."

Morgan flicked the shield down and held the metal as Dmitri touched the wire to the steel, igniting sparks and drowning out any chance of conversation. She thought of different ways she could stall, but none of them would work on Dmitri. Unless . . .

She glanced at the copper spool, feeding the spitting fire. It hadn't been a full spool to begin with, and the way Dmitri was globing it on his disproportionate welds, he'd run out of it before the twenty were finished. With stores now closed for the night, he couldn't finish in time. A delay was just what they needed. So, instead of correcting his work, she bit her tongue and watched.

Liam had caught her eye between welds, and the question that she read in them was the same as her own. What in the world was she up to? She was navigating by the seat of her pants and only hoped that Liam would play along. Not being able to openly speak with him was hard enough, but not being able to return eye contact due to the shield was horrible. All he could see was a black mask. He couldn't see the desperate plans she was concocting.

It was two hours later when Dmitri finally noticed the diminishing spool. "We need more."

"This is all I have," Morgan said. "I would have bought more had I known."

"What about storage?"

Morgan shook her head. "This is it."

Dmitri tossed down the gloves, cursing in Russian. He looked at the pile of sheet metal. "How many more?"

"Maybe five at the most, but we wouldn't be able to seal the lids."

"I go to store." Dmitri was already on his way to the door.

Morgan wasn't sure if she should tell him that it was well after midnight and the stores were closed. Maybe he knew someone in the business. Or, maybe, he'd just break in. Either way, he didn't seem like he wanted her opinion, so she stayed silent, this time able to make eye contact with Liam.

As soon as Dmitri was out of earshot, Liam said, "You seem to have a plan. What is it?"

"I'm stalling. I knew we'd run out of wire with the way he was using it. Unless he breaks into a store, we're done for the night."

"I had a feeling there was a reason you weren't correcting him. Even I was having a hard time holding my tongue."

"I was biting mine nearly off."

Liam smiled. "I figured."

Morgan narrowed her eyes. "Figured what?"

"Just that you are a perfectionist. Anyone in your employ would have to be too, otherwise you'd never get any work done."

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"Not at all. But if it is, then I'm guilty as well. Ask anyone at my office, but not Trace. He will fill your ears with tales of cruelty." Liam took a seat on the floor and stretched out his legs in a V. "Here, sit in front of me. Your back has to hurt from bending down that whole time."

Morgan looked at the space between his legs that he indicated she should sit in. It seemed like an insanely intimate thing to do, but he was right. Her back was sore. Accidentally turning too fast might bunch her muscles into tight knots for days. And, if she needed another excuse to sit by him, it was for heat. Since the sun had set hours ago, the temperature had dropped. Liam had to be freezing without a shirt. Interestingly enough, he didn't look very cold. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked.

"The Ivankovs."

"You know what I mean." He looked at Morgan, his head angling slightly to the side as if he could figure her out at a different angle. "Are you afraid of me? I didn't mean to come on so strongly when we first met. I really don't know what got into me. Maybe I was experiencing an adrenaline spike on my first spying assignment." He smiled playfully, his lips perfectly framing his teeth.

"Which I should be mad about."

"You're not?"

Morgan shook her head. "At first, but it seems so long ago and so insignificant. Plus, if you hadn't, I'd be here all alone."

"At least I'm preferable to being alone."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know."

"In fact, I thought that if we had met under different circumstances that —" What in God's name was she saying! She nearly blurted out something better left unsaid. It'd only make things awkward between them. She was about to turn around to hide from his curious stare when he finished her sentence.

"That we'd like each other?" Liam smiled. "Angel, if you haven't figured it out yet, I do like you. I wouldn't have kissed you otherwise. The question is, do you like me?"

"Of course."

"Then I think it's safe if you sit down and let me rub some of the knots away."

Morgan conceded. There were no more arguments to be made, and she didn't want to bother anyway. The fact that he admitted that he liked her made her feel as silly and giddy as a fourteen-year-old with a mad crush.

Morgan slowly sat between Liam's legs, making sure she didn't accidentally clobber him. It wasn't that she was clumsy by nature, but he seemed to make her rethink her own strength. Instead of sturdy legs and strong arms, her limbs now had the consistency of Piper's overcooked noodles.

As Liam's hands moved along her shoulders and back, she felt the temperature shifting from the cold air to warm hands and then back to cold air. She wished he had twenty more hands.

After a few minutes of a heavenly massage, he stopped and pulled her back into him, clasping his arms around her. She leaned against him, allowing herself the freedom to relax, if only for a few minutes.

"You're shivering," he said.

"It's getting really cold. We should have thought to bring coats."

"We didn't have the option."

"You have to be freezing without a shirt on."

He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind one shoulder and exposing her neck to the crisp air. She was about to put it back, so at least her neck stayed warm, when he lowered his head, pressing his lips against the spot where her neck and shoulder met. The stubble along his jaw brushed against her.

When was the last time she'd felt the scratch of a man's five o'clock shadow running along her skin? It seemed like such a simple thing, but she couldn't remember.

Morgan wanted to ask him about his work, if only to detour her runaway thoughts. Instead, she ran her fingers over his arm still wrapped around her waist. He had perfect arms. Not so muscular as to pop the veins out; she hated that. And a light layer of hair, not a thick carpet.

"That tickles," he murmured, his lips near her ear.

She stopped tracing his arm and turned her head to look at him. "Sorry."

"I'm not." He stared at her for a moment. "Not at all sorry."

The bolt scraped open, giving Liam and Morgan a split-second warning before Dmitri stomped in.

"We are done," Dmitri announced, scowling.

"You couldn't buy any wire?" Morgan asked.

" _Nyet_ , all closed."

"Can you steal it?" Morgan didn't really want to give him options, but she was curious as to why he hadn't already. Isn't that what a thief was supposed to do?

"Ivankovs don't steal."

"Then what do they do?"

Dmitri's lips quirked up into a tight smile. "Make people steal for us."

Morgan didn't like the sound of that. Was he going to try to force Morgan to steal supplies? She'd get caught for sure. She was never the stealthy sort. But, maybe landing in jail for a petty crime would be a blessing.

"What do we do now?" Liam asked.

"Come." Dmitri motioned for them to follow him.

Morgan and Liam stood, hands held together, and followed him out.

"Won't Sonya be mad if we stop?" Morgan asked.

"It is good. We have big freezer."

Liam leaned to Morgan to whisper, "What does that mean?"

"It means we have time."

Liam straightened and looked to Dmitri. "Did you find Marik?"

Dmitri stopped. " _Nyet_ , but you will soon. Tell him I have plan."

"What plan?" Morgan asked. "Does it involve us?"

"You weld tomorrow."

"And?"

Dmitri began walking again, terminating the conversation. If Morgan had to guess, it didn't involve them nor would it benefit them.

At the main house, Dmitri flagged a man from his station at the door. He spoke rapidly in Russian and shoved Morgan into the man. Her face slammed against his solid chest.

"What was that for?" Morgan snapped, righting herself.

Liam was quick to come to her aid, but Dmitri was quicker, stopping him with one arm across his gut. Liam bent over, wheezing.

"Not you," Dmitri said. "You come with me."

"What about me?" Morgan asked.

"You go with him."

Morgan shook her head. "You can't. We have to stick together."

"Sonya wants word," Dmitri said.

"With me?" Morgan asked.

"No, with him." He pointed to Liam. "She wants to . . . what do you say? Settle the score?"

Before Morgan could argue, she was dragged away by the guard. He was not gentle, but she didn't give him any options. She struggled and yelled the entire way until he finally tired of her and slammed her head against the nearest wall, turning her world to black.
Chapter 17

Piper didn't know much; she was reminded of that daily. But sitting at the bar, pretending she wasn't listening to the conversation behind her, enlightened her to the extent of her ignorance. And the fact that Van and Papa Bear opened up to Greer more than they had with her made her furious.

She'd be the first to admit she still had a tinge of green behind her ears, but for God's sake, she was twenty-two, not twelve. Greer was only three years older but much less _verde_ tinted. Was that why Papa Bear and Van spoke to her as an equal? Did Piper just have to change shades to be taken seriously? If that was the case, maybe she should kiss as many men as Greer had, or maybe even top Van's number . . . which she didn't exactly know, but it had to be deep into the double digits. Triple digits?

Piper gulped down her drink, trying not to wince at the burn.

She was being silly, she knew. There were more important matters at hand, but she'd had enough.

"You're drinking that rather fast."

Piper studied the bartender. She had known Devon even before her dad had died. He had always been the smiling man serving her kiddie cocktails. Now, he wasn't smiling but looking at her with worried eyes.

"I'm drinking at the speed I wish to." She gulped down the rest, willing her face to remain passive. She slid the glass to him. "Another."

"Piper, you shouldn't —"

"Were you just about to scold me?" she questioned.

"No, it's just —"

"Another."

His lips pursed, but then he nodded. "Do you have a ride home tonight?"

"Not going home. Greer and I are heading to Vegas." Piper hadn't actually had that conversation with Greer, but they were going no matter what.

Devon looked past Piper and spotted Greer, his eyes lighting. Was he crushing on Greer too? For the love of God, they shared the same eyes and same hair, what made Piper so repulsive and Greer so loved? Maybe it was the age gap. If she had to guess, Devon was ten years older than she was, making him only seven years older than Greer. Whatever age he was, it didn't seem to show.

"Stop drooling and get me a drink."

Devon blinked and then stared at Piper as if she had lost her mind. Maybe she had.

She sighed and flicked a speck off her old work shirt. Maybe it was her clothes. Greer always managed to look fashionable, while Piper was dressing more and more like Morgan. Service clothes were not attractive. She knew that, and yet she still wore them. After ruining nearly all of her clothes on her art, she finally conceded that Morgan was right.

"Don't mind me," she muttered to Devon.

"What's going on?"

"I just have a lot on my mind."

"Anything I can help with?"

She looked at Devon, wondering if he meant what he said or if he was just passing the time with hollow words. He seemed like he meant it. His eyes were no longer tracking Greer, but were on her. They might not be as bright as they had been moments ago, but they were sincere.

"I think Morgan might be in trouble, but I'm having a hard time getting information from those two." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, pointing in the general direction of Van and Papa Bear. "I finally had to ask Greer to interrogate."

"Looks like she's doing a good job."

"Yes."

Devon slid a full glass in front of Piper. "Yes, but . . ."

She took a sip. "Why couldn't they have just told me? Why did I have to get Greer involved?"

"I think it might be your personality."

Her mouth swung open, mortified. "What's wrong with my personality?"

"Nothing. You're just sweet." He shrugged. "Innocent."

In all of her life, those words had never sounded so horrible. "So I'm supposed to be mean and jaded?"

"Absolutely not. Never change who you are. I guess what I'm trying to say is that no one wants to hurt you. They'd rather wear soft gloves with you than upset you."

Is that what everyone thought of her? That she was sweet and therefore had no backbone or brains? If that was the case, it was time to change. She'd no longer be set aside. Piper would take what she wanted without apology, starting with Devon.

Piper leaned over the bar, grasped the front of Devon's shirt and pulled him forward. She planted a kiss on his surprised lips, allowing the moment to settle before backing away. That wasn't too bad. She smiled prettily at his stunned reaction.

"Put the drinks on my tab," she said, scooting off the barstool. She smiled one last time and was about to head out when she ran smack into Van.

He took her arm and marched her away from the bar. "What in the hell are you doing?"

She shrugged him away. "Kissing Devon. I thought it was obvious."

"It was obvious. You can't just go around kissing guys, especially Devon. You know he has a reputation. You'll be labeled."

"Actually, I'm removing a label." Piper walked around Van. "And maybe his reputation is exactly what I need. Greer and I have to go."

Van's mouth moved, but nothing came out. She kind of liked seeing him flounder for a bit. Normally, it was her who got tongue-tied around him.

"Greer," Piper shouted, "I'm heading out."

Greer flashed a glance at Papa Bear before following Piper outside.

"What was that about?" she asked. "I saw you kiss Devon, and then Van flew over as if he was going to punch him. Was he a good kisser? I've always wondered."

Piper barely remembered the kiss, so it couldn't have been that good, not that she gave him much time to react. "I heard what Papa Bear and Van said. They gave me a similar story, but I think we have enough information to try to find Morgan and Liam. We just need to get to Vegas."

"And how are we going to do that?"

"If we drive in shifts, we can be there in seven hours," Piper said. "And with your lead foot, I'm sure we can shave off an hour."

"I hate to be the level-headed one, that's normally Morgan's job, but what about work? I can't just take off unexpected days from the shelter. They need me."

"You're a volunteer with a family crisis. They'll understand. You heard what Papa Bear said. Morgan is in over her head."

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"So do I."

"No, I mean I have a bad feeling about us going. I think we'll end up getting in the way and being more of a problem than help. Plus, you said Liam's brother was looking for him. I'm sure he's already landed in Vegas and is helping them as we speak."

Piper frowned. "You've obviously never met Trace. He seems nice, but he's probably more focused on styling his hair."

"Interesting."

"No, not at all interesting. We have to get to Morgan before it's too late."

Greer sighed. "You're right. We'll do what we can. But we have to stop at my place. I have to pack a bag."

"Promise me you won't pack everything. We don't have time for you to sort through your entire closet."

"I promise. We'll be on the road in less than an hour, and I'll make sure to make up for that time on my shift."

Piper hugged Greer, squeezing her until Greer finally begged her to let go.

With Greer on her side, they'd help Morgan and Liam in no time. They didn't have much to go on, but a few key pieces of information would point them in the right direction. They'd find the Ivankovs, probably with a simple web search, and they'd end whatever contract Morgan had with them. Crime family or not, Russian mob or not, whatever hold they had on Morgan was at an end.

* * *

Liam broke free from Dmitri's stronghold. He had to find Morgan. The way the guard handled her had been brutal. He hoped she wasn't injured, but his senses told him otherwise.

Before Liam could prepare himself, Dmitri charged at him, knocking him to the ground.

"We do this easy way or hard way," Dmitri said.

Liam glared.

Dmitri smiled. "Hard way." He kicked out, slamming the sole of his boot into Liam's head, missing his eye by a fraction.

Liam groaned, his arm shooting out to catch Dmitri's leg before he could do further damage. Liam twisted, upsetting Dmitri's balance. He rolled out of the way as Dmitri toppled to the marble floor. With an exchanged glare, they both jumped to their feet.

"Why are you doing this?" Liam snapped. He swiped at the blood that trickled down past his eye. "We want to help you and your brother."

Dmitri didn't say anything. Instead, he ducked and blasted Liam in the gut. Liam wheezed, holding his stomach.

Dmitri stared at Liam. "You're weak."

Liam couldn't argue with that. He was not built with thick, corded muscles like Dmitri. At the moment he wished he was. He would have spent more time at the gym had he known he'd have to fight a thief in law.

"You said you wanted to help Marik," Liam said. "Why would you still follow orders?"

"Because if he doesn't, then he'll find himself in the same predicament as his brother," a strong feminine voice said behind him. "Isn't that right, Dmitri?"

Liam turned toward the voice, knowing who it belonged to. Ever since he found out Sonya was involved, he knew he'd see her eventually. But nothing prepared him for what he saw before him. No longer a teenager, Sonya had transformed into a dark-haired beauty. Thick eyelashes framed eyes that were colder than an ice storm. She had changed.

In that instant, he was transported back to the time when she had laughed freely, smiled widely, and cherished the world around her. He didn't even have to hear another word pass her lips to know that that girl was dead.

Was that his fault? If he had stayed with her, even faced her father, would she still be the same as the girl from his memory?

"Why so quiet all of a sudden, Liam?" Sonya asked. "Surely you remember me."

"I remember."

"Then is it because you didn't expect me to be here?" Sonya moved closer to Liam, each step deliberately pronounced as if she knew he couldn't do anything with Dmitri right behind him. "Surely you knew I'd be here. Wasn't it your fear that I'd follow in my father's footsteps? That's why you broke off our engagement."

When he had given her that ring, he was young, so young. He meant it as a promise ring, something for her to look forward to later. "I never expected you to fill his shoes. I hoped you'd get away from it all, especially when you became an agent."

"I did for a while."

"What happened to make you change?"

She leaned in. "Why, Liam, are you worried for me?"

"This isn't you."

"Isn't it?" She smiled, lips curling. "I think it's exactly like me. I've been bred for this ever since I was a child. But I was told that I'd never amount to much. Father was always trying to have a son with any bitch that passed through this door. But, to answer your question, I never truly escaped his reach."

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened? With a daughter in the FBI, he began using me as his shield. First it was just a favor, and then two."

"Then you were breaking the law for him."

"Always the smart one," Sonya said, motioning for him to follow her. "We've talked enough."

"Where are we going?" Liam didn't budge from his spot. Just because she was speaking civilly with him now didn't mean it'd continue. While he might feel sorry for her, he wasn't naïve.

"Some place private."

"You have to let Morgan go. She doesn't belong in your world."

Sonya turned on him. "So, I should let her go even though she knows too much? She could turn the tables on me anytime she wants. And I'm supposed to let her waltz out of here?"

"It's the right thing to do."

Sonya laughed. "Clearly you've forgotten all that research you did on my family. We never do the right thing." She smirked. "Family motto."

"Let her go and I'll do whatever work you want. I have an iron foundry at your disposal."

"And what will you do for me in exchange for Trace and Reed?"

Liam closed his eyes, willing himself calm. When he opened them again, she smiled slyly at him. He wanted to yell! He was so sure he could talk his way into getting her to release Morgan, but now Trace and Reed?

Sonya would never let them all go.

Chapter 18

Piper was astonished when Greer stepped out of her room, wheeling a suitcase only ten minutes after they had arrived at her place. This meant Greer was serious, relieving Piper of any doubts she might have had. They were ready to hit the road without further delay.

Lights dashed through the room, skating across the walls and ceiling.

"Did someone just pull into the drive?" Greer asked, heading to the front window to peer out. "That looks like Grandpa's car."

Piper raced to the window to look over Greer's shoulder. "What is he doing here so late at night?" She hoped it wasn't anything serious. Grandpa rarely left the house after dark. Was he worried because she hadn't come home yet?

Greer opened the door as Walter hurried up the short walkway. "Grandpa, what are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?"

He shook his head. "Nothing is okay. Hasn't been for a while now."

Piper didn't like the sound of that. And now that he stood in the glow of the living room lamps, he looked thinner, his skin grayer.

"Sit down and tell us what this is about," Greer said, ushering him to the couch.

He sat gingerly on the edge, his shoulders slumped over. "Girls, I don't know how to tell you this, but I have to stop you from going to Vegas."

"You don't understand," Piper said. "Morgan is in trouble."

"I know. I put her there. I will go to Vegas alone."

Greer and Piper exchanged worried glances.

"What do you mean?" Greer asked. "According to Papa Bear, this started with Dad."

He shook his head. "It started with me, but your dad didn't help matters." Walter rubbed his arm, his skin wrinkling and smoothing with each pass. "Did your dad ever tell you your heritage?"

"Irish and Norwegian, right?"

He nodded. "That's from your grandmother's and mother's side. What your dad didn't tell you is that you're Russian as well."

Piper sat on the edge of the chair next to her grandfather. "Does this have anything to do with the Ivankovs?"

"Partly."

"But our last name is Brennan," Greer said, confused. "If you're not Irish, how did you get the name?"

"I met your grandmother when I was twenty-five and on a boat headed to America. We married, and I took her name to protect us."

"Protect you from what?" Piper asked.

"It is better if I show you. But you won't like what you see." Walter stood, unbuttoning his shirt, but then he stopped. "Promise me that you won't go to Vegas. Let me handle this. You don't know the world you're trying to enter. You'll only get yourselves and Morgan killed."

"But, Grandpa —"

"Your promise. I will have it now."

Greer glanced at Piper before nodding. "If it's this important to you, I promise."

"Piper?" Walter asked.

She huffed. "As long as you don't get yourself killed, I promise."

When he proceeded to unbutton his shirt, Greer asked, "Why don't you have an accent?"

"Because I'm no longer Russian, nor will I ever be again." He pulled the shirt off, revealing faded tattoos and jagged scars.

Piper had never seen her grandfather without a shirt, not even at the beach. Now she knew why.

"I can see the questions in your eyes," he said, pulling back on his shirt. "I will not burden you with my earlier life. But these tattoos represent it. I'm marked with a past I can't escape. It doesn't involve you, nor should it have involved your father or Morgan."

"What do you mean you can't escape your past?" Piper asked. "What did you do?"

"Stole a loaf of bread for my mother." Walter sat back down, taking Piper's hand. "I know none of this makes sense to you right now. I promise to explain when I return. There is too much to dredge up now."

"Will you be okay?" Greer asked.

He smiled. "I'm a Pavlovich. We are survivors."

* * *

Liam had two options at the moment. Follow Sonya on his own two feet or have Dmitri drag him. He preferred walking on his own. Liam didn't want to go another round with Dmitri unless he had no other choice. So far, Sonya hadn't threatened him. However, she had no plans to release Morgan either. So, without a protest, he followed Sonya up the stairs to the second floor.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

Sonya didn't respond, only led him down a hall. Liam made sure to pay attention to any rooms with an open door. He wanted to remember the layout of this house.

The guard that had taken Morgan didn't come up here; he had gone to the south wing before Liam lost sight.

"Do you like her?" Sonya asked.

"Who?"

"Morgan."

Liam didn't know how to respond. Of course he liked her. He more than liked her. Ever since he had dinner at her house he thought about her nonstop. And ever since their first kiss mere hours ago, he hadn't stopped craving more. But did Sonya really expect him to confess such feelings? Ex's rarely wanted to know.

"We've been working together for a few days," he said, dodging the question.

"But do you like her."

So much for dodging. "Yes, she's hard working and organized."

Sonya stopped at a door at the far north wing. She turned to him. "You're evading the question."

"Maybe it's not something I wish to discuss."

She stepped to him, splaying her hands across his bare chest. "Do you know, I never expected to see you again. But you came dressed just the way I like my men." Her fingers curled as she raked her nails against his skin.

He wrapped his hands around her wrists. "I don't suppose you have a shirt I can borrow."

"Perhaps." She opened the door, leading him into a lavish, red bedroom with gold trim. "Perhaps not."

Liam didn't follow her inside. He couldn't. What was she thinking by bringing him here? He turned to Dmitri, only to find he was gone.

"Come inside and shut the door."

Liam didn't move. "I'll wait out here while you find a shirt."

"I think not." Sonya placed a hand on her hip, her robe slipping open slightly. "Just because I didn't kill you doesn't mean you have a choice about what I do with you." Her voice never raised; she just told him exactly what he needed to know.

Liam tried not to shiver in response to her cool tone. He remembered her father spoke in a similar fashion. No anger, just calculating with soft words. That was what he had feared most about Mr. Ivankov. It was as if he had no remorse for his deeds.

Liam stepped into the room, hoping to look as if he wasn't affected. Sonya circled around him, closing the door and coming back to face him. He didn't want to bring up welding at the moment, but the way she was looking at him, he needed a distraction, one which she'd be moved to talk about.

"Aren't you concerned about the welding not being done in time?" he asked.

"No. It's of no consequence. One day won't hurt." She began untying the satin belt that held her robe together.

"I thought you were in a hurry." He winced, hoping she didn't think he meant in a hurry to get to her bed, which was only a few yards away. Because now that her robe slipped off her shoulders and slithered to the ground, he was pretty sure what she had in mind.

"One of the perks of this mansion is a spacious walk-in freezer." Her hand traveled the length of his chest, down to the button of his jeans. She leaned in, whispering, "We have plenty of time."

He took a step back, holding her by her shoulders so she couldn't reclaim that space. Sonya was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. But he felt nothing for her. Well, nothing good. All he had left was a sadness that she'd followed this path — and a resentment that she hurt people without remorse.

"Why so many coffins?" he asked.

She slipped from his grasp and circled him, the peaks of her breasts skimming along his back. "Just part of the cleanup."

"What cleanup?"

Her hands caressed down his back and around his waist, her quick fingers popping open his jeans button. Liam turned to move from her reach but ended up with her against him.

"Father's legacy."

"You mean to kill the people working for you?" He took her arms, pinning them down to her side so she could no longer touch him.

"Want to play rough?" She grinned.

"No, I want answers."

"Some will die, some will not." She wrapped a leg around him. "And if you're lucky, I'll keep you around for a bit."

He allowed her leg to stay because his hands were busy holding her in place.

Had she lost her mind? With every word she uttered she became more of a stranger to him. Did Reed not see this change in her before she turned against him?

"Why will they die? What have they done to you?"

"You remember the code of the _vory v zakone_."

"Yes, but I don't remember it saying to kill your workers."

She shrugged. "They are not my workers. The _vory v zakone_ view women as nothing but a possession. Their archaic laws do not suit me."

"Then stop this and go back to a normal life, the life you'd wanted before all of this."

"You mean the life with you?" She looked into his eyes. "When I am done, they will know me and fear me." She swung her other leg up. Liam caught her shifting weight, keeping them both upright. "And I will have you, Liam, or you will die tomorrow with them."

* * *

Morgan's head hurt. So did her wrists. She contemplated why that would be as she slowly awoke from what she could only liken to a vat of Greer's thick, lumpy gravy. It wasn't until she finally cracked her eyes open to an unfamiliar room that she realized she was still at the Ivankov mansion. She scrambled to stand but was stopped by handcuffs linked by a short chain to a reinforced wall.

Where was Liam?

She looked around, her unfocused gaze falling on three men she'd never seen before, all with bruises and cuts. The third one farthest from her seemed to be healing, however. The other two had more recent wounds. Slowly, she brought her hands to her face, wondering if she was in the same battered state. It didn't seem so as she softly ran her fingers along her jaw and brow. Only her skull hurt, not her face.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Ivankov's," the man in the middle said. He was sitting with his back against the wall. His auburn hair was matted with dried blood, his nose in a similar caked state.

"I know that, but where in the house?"

"The dungeon," the younger man nearest to her said. He was wearing a tuxedo but had stripped off the bowtie and unbuttoned the collar. "My friend tossed me in here himself."

Morgan pursed her lips. "This looks nothing like a dungeon. Are we in the basement?"

The middle man shook his head. "Holding room off the south wing. They tend not to like dragging bodies up and down flights of stairs."

Morgan studied the man for a moment. Could this be Reed? Liam never gave a description of him, but he seemed to know things. "You're Reed."

"And you're Morgan."

"You're Morgan?" the young man questioned.

She nodded.

"Christ, now I understand his sudden need to help. I'm in a Russian dungeon because of a pretty face." He shook his head. "I always thought it'd be me falling into a dangerous liaison; hoped for it, really. And now it turns out Liam's one-upped me again."

"I doubt he thinks it a competition, Trace," Reed said.

"Trace?" Morgan looked at the young man, trying to find a resemblance to Liam. She couldn't. They were like night and day, light and dark. "You're Liam's brother?"

He shrugged. "Brothers from another mother and all that. Unfortunately, same father."

Morgan nodded, letting it sink in. She was now face-to-face with Liam's brother and his FBI friend. But who was the man on the far side of the room? "Who is that?" she asked Reed, motioning to the man who had turned his back to them.

"Marik. Not sure why he's in here."

"I do." Morgan settled herself against the wall, mirroring both Reed and Trace with stretched-out legs. There wasn't any furniture in the "dungeon," no mattresses to sleep on. Not even a bathroom. "What happens if you have to go to the bathroom?"

Trace groaned. "Don't even bring that up. It's degrading."

"What is?"

Reed pointed to the drain in the middle of the floor.

That was the toilet? Thankfully, she never ate on the job, and she hadn't had any liquids for a while. She'd dehydrate before she'd have the need to use it. But still, that didn't mean she wanted to be around when the others had to relieve themselves.

"What did he do?" Trace asked.

"Who?"

"Marik. You said you know what he did to land in here."

"He was ordered to weld, and he didn't have the supplies needed."

"Rough management here." Trace crossed one foot over the other.

"You don't seem to be worried," she said.

"Liam's still out there. If nothing else, he'll come to rescue you and find the rest of us."

"He was taken to Sonya."

Reed sat up straight. "He's here? With Sonya?"

Morgan shrugged. "I think he was taken to Sonya. We were split up as soon as we entered the house."

Reed muttered a curse, rubbing his hands across his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

When he didn't answer, she let it go. Personally, she didn't like the fact that Sonya had Liam God-knew where, but he should be safe, at least for the moment. Morgan had no illusion that Sonya wouldn't turn on every single one of them, especially after the coffins were finished. But surely Sonya wouldn't split them up just to kill Liam. Sonya seemed smart, perhaps even smarter than her father. Whatever she was up to, there was a reason behind it. She knew Reed and Liam were friends, and that Reed was down here. Was it as simple as making Reed jealous? From the looks of Reed, she might have accomplished her goal.

"You love her," Morgan said.

Reed let his hands slip from his face. "You must've talked to Liam."

"We spoke a little about the past, just so I'd understand how everyone is connected."

"And you know they dated?"

She nodded.

"Well, then." He looked away.

"Well, then, what?" Morgan asked.

"Go to sleep. It'll be morning soon." Reed turned away.

Trace glanced from Reed to Morgan. "Don't let him bother you. He's been in love with Sonya since before Liam started dating her. The only people who didn't notice how lovesick he was were the two flaunting it under his nose."

"And so he followed her to the FBI after Liam broke it off."

Reed cursed and turned toward Morgan. "It means nothing. I was helping a friend. But then her dad started asking for favors, each one bigger than the last. I tried to reason with her, but he had some kind of control over her. So, I made sure that if she was going to break the law, that I could at least protect her."

Whether he admitted it or not, Morgan could hear what he wasn't saying. He was in love with Sonya, even during her downfall. Now he was paying the price and yet he still loved her.
Chapter 19

Liam wiped blood from his mouth. Sonya had been serious. He didn't know how serious until after he pushed her away when she tried to kiss him. She bit down, drawing blood.

He watched her carefully, not knowing her next move, nor his. She hadn't bothered to put her robe back on, but instead sat on the bed, her legs curled under her.

"I meant what I said before, Liam."

"I know, but this isn't a game I wish to play."

"And what game is that?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Every time you wish for something, you'll threaten me until I give in. I'm stopping this now."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what if I don't stop?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you don't care about your own life, perhaps your life isn't the one I should be threatening."

"What do you want from me?"

"Everything you took away."

"We've been over this. We were young, and I'm sorry for hurting you, but that was years ago and the only thing you've done is proved I was right."

"Then you give me no choice."

"You always have the choice to do the right thing. I've never taken that away from you."

She stood and gathered her robe, slipping into it. "Being born into this family doesn't offer me many choices."

"It should offer you more choices than you can imagine. Your father is dead. You no longer have to worry about him."

"Yes, I have Reed to thank for that," she snarled. "Now I'm left with his empire."

"Dissolve it and move on."

She smirked. "I have better plans for it."

"What's that?"

"I will make it my own."

Liam wanted to shake her. Could she not hear herself? Could she not see how many people she was hurting? Or did she only care about her hurt, her anger?

"How will you make it your own?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"Sonya, this is insanity. Stop this now before more people get hurt."

She slid up to him, studying him. "Are you concerned for me?"

"Yes."

She looped a finger into his waistband. "Then prove it."

He grabbed her hand. "Concern and sex are not the same thing."

Sonya snatched her hand away. "Dmitri!" she yelled, then focused on Liam. "I don't think you'd protest if you didn't already have another lover."

Dmitri entered the room to await her order.

Sonya leaned in to Liam to whisper, "If I can't have you, no one can." She straightened, tightening her robe. "Dmitri, take him to the holding cell. He can await his fate with the rest of them."

* * *

"Now I'm even more worried," Piper said.

"He's Russian?" Greer pondered. "And went to prison? How did I never figure this out?"

Piper had the same question. Greer was notorious for digging up secrets, and this one was huge.

They sat quietly for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, after she couldn't stand the swirling questions, Piper said, "I don't intend to keep my promise. Do you?"

"I don't know. What did he say his name was?"

"Pavlovich, I think."

"So, I would have been Greer Pavlovich? And you'd be Piper Pavlovich." She smiled. "That's kind of cute."

"Greer." Piper tried not to whine, but she feared Greer was losing focus.

"Yes, I know." She waved off Piper. "I don't intend to keep the promise either, but I am curious . . ." Greer pulled her laptop from the end table and opened it.

"What are you curious about?"

"Everything."

Piper could have dittoed that but decided to wait to see what Greer was up to. After opening the web browser, Greer typed in a search relating to Pavlovich and Ivankov.

"What are you looking for?" Piper asked, peering over her shoulder.

"A connection. Grandpa said this was his fault. I want to see how the connection between Pavlovich and Ivankov began. If Grandpa left Russia to escape, he wouldn't strike up a relationship with Ivankov. If it were me, I would stay as far away from any Russian I could, fearing exposure. So, Ivankov must have known Grandpa in Russia and then found him when he moved to Vegas."

It was certainly a plausible theory. Piper couldn't think up a better one given that the bomb was delivered only moments ago.

"Would there even be anything online about them?" Piper asked. "It happened such a long time ago."

"Ivankov is still active."

"But Grandpa isn't."

"Isn't he?"

"Greer, you heard him yourself. He didn't seem like he wanted anything to do with the life he left behind."

"I have a feeling his wants were not a part of that life."

Piper frowned. "Did you see how many tattoos he had?"

Greer cringed. "They weren't very good. I would've asked for my money back."

"Did you see the one with the cathedral? There were two domes, but it looked like he was going to add a third and it was never finished."

Greer's brow wrinkled. "I tried not to notice."

"Do you think he's driving there by himself?" Piper rubbed her hands together nervously. "You know he doesn't like driving at night."

"Maybe he'll take the redeye."

"Then we should too."

"We'd have to see if tickets are available."

"Then do it. You're the one with the computer."

"I will, but there's something interesting here." Her mouth moved slightly as she read.

"What is it?"

"Do you think that's Grandpa?" She pointed to her screen.

Piper leaned over and looked. "It has to be. Grandpa has an old picture of him and Grandma in his bedroom. If it's not him, then he has a twin brother."

"If this is Grandpa, his real name is Nikolai Pavlovich. Which I guess would make sense. I don't think there are too many men named Walter living in Russia."

"What does the article say?"

"I don't know. It's in Russian."

"Try one of those translator websites."

Greer copied the article and searched for a page that would translate. "Here. I'll try this one."

Piper tried to read the English version of the article. "It doesn't really make sense."

"No, but it still gives us key points. There's a law of thieves. Something about territory dispute. Ten dead. Dangerous crime lord wanted in connection. May flee country."

Piper pressed her fingers against her lips. "I don't like these key points."

"Grandpa wouldn't . . . you don't think . . ."

"No." Piper shook her head. "There's no way. Nuh-uh. Grandpa is a good man. He would never."

"But, we never knew he was Russian, nor did we know he went to prison and came out with ugly ink. He could be this Nikolai Pavlovich, dangerous crime lord. Then it would make sense that he'd know Ivankov."

Piper shook her head harder. "Nope. I'm not believing a word of it. We'll just have to ask Grandpa."

Greer closed the laptop and placed it back on the end table. "Then let's go find him."

* * *

When Liam was shoved into the holding cell, he wasn't sure what to expect, but Trace and Reed were not on the list. Morgan's gaze went straight to his lip; a sure sign Sonya's damage was noticed. A guard secured his wrists in handcuffs attached to a wall and slammed the door closed, locking it from the outside.

He wanted to ask Morgan if she was okay, but what came out of his mouth was not that. "Trace, what in God's name are you doing here?"

"I found Reed."

"I asked you to find him, not get locked up with him."

"You left that out of the instructions." He yawned. "You owe me a trust fund free and clear of your management."

Liam sighed. Even in a suffocating cell, Trace only thought of his money. "Is everyone okay?"

They all murmured an affirmative, except for the man with his back turned.

"Marik," Reed filled in the unspoken question.

"What is the plan?" Liam asked.

Reed shrugged. "Were you with Sonya? That looks like her handiwork." He pointed to his lip.

"Yes, she wasn't happy with me. Looks like she wasn't happy with you either."

"Did she give you a hint as to what she's up to?"

"Not really. Something about clearing out her father's old people and making the _bratva_ her own."

"Is that the reason for the huge coffin production?" Morgan asked.

"I think so," Liam said, sitting down as close to her as possible. "Reed, can you add anything to her story?"

"I learned there will be a gathering tomorrow night. Many of the leaders will be there."

"The thieves in law?"

Reed shrugged. "Some yes, some no. Russia is changing, and the thieves in law have become business leaders and government officials. But there is still a corrupt undercurrent run by the thieves in law. The gathering will most likely function as a treaty party. Encroaching is not tolerated, and it can become a bloodbath if not dealt with."

"A treaty party sounds like a good thing," Morgan said.

Reed nodded. "They can be, but I have a feeling Sonya has a different outcome in mind. The parties invited are all people her father worked with and might still have deals with."

"So, what are we going to do?" Liam asked.

Reed raised a brow. "Nothing. Let them kill each other off. It'll save the feds time."

"I doubt that's the official feds stance," Liam said.

"I agree with Reed," Trace said. "It's not like we can do anything in here anyway."

"Morgan will be needed tomorrow to help Dmitri," Liam said. "I might be able to twist his arm to let me help like I did tonight. We might be able to create a diversion."

"I'm all for diversions and escaping," Trace said.

"Reed, is there anything you can think of that would help?" Liam asked.

"Where is the welding being staged?"

"In the shed out back. It's empty except for the welder and sheets of steel. Dmitri locks us in when he leaves." Liam looked to Morgan, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembered just how determined she had been to escape. "We've tried to break it down before with no luck."

"How does the welder work?" Reed asked. "Is it electric?"

"Yes, it's plugged into the one outlet in the shed. It also uses a nonreactive shielding gas."

Reed shook his head. "I'll have to think on this. I really don't know."

Marik turned to the group. He was a smaller version of Dmitri, but still had the same heavy brow and eyes that Liam wouldn't want to see in a dark alley. "Dmitri will take care of it. He has plan."

"Does this plan include us?" Liam asked. "Because so far he hasn't been very cooperative."

"Dmitri is never cooperative, but he will come through on plan."

"With us?"

Marik shrugged and turned his back to them again, stretching out on the floor.

"That's not very reassuring," Trace muttered.

Liam agreed. Even if Dmitri had plans to aid Marik, it didn't mean he'd help the rest of them. To place their fates into his hands would be like playing Russian roulette.

Liam leaned against the wall, exhausted. "Everyone think on it and we'll see if we can come up with anything. Otherwise, get some rest, because I doubt we'll get any tomorrow."

When Reed and Trace closed their eyes, Liam reached for Morgan's hand but was a couple of inches too short. "Scoot over."

Morgan was able to make up the difference, and he folded her hand into his. In that instant, he was unexpectedly at peace. Was this love? He had thought he'd been in love before, but no one had ever affected him like this. It was as if she found a part of him that even he didn't know existed.

He glanced over at her, thinking her eyes would be closed. But her eyes were open, staring into his. "Go to sleep, angel."

"I will," she said softly. "I was afraid when the guard took me. I thought I might never see you again."

He gently stroked her hand with his thumb. "I had that same fear. How do you feel?"

"Good." She looked at his lip. "And you?"

He squeezed her hand. "Never better."

She smiled and leaned her head against the wall. "I have a plan," she whispered.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "Tomorrow. When there are no ears."

"Until tomorrow, then. Go to sleep, angel."
Chapter 20

Morgan knew what she had to do, but timing it was the problem. If it went terribly wrong, Dmitri would throw both her and Liam back into the cell. It was hard enough to get Liam out to begin with. It was only because of Liam's calm demeanor and willingness to move steel that the guard allowed Liam to leave the cell.

They had worked for hours, and still she was unable to make a move. Liam looked at her every so often, wondering if she'd do something soon. She should've told him the plan last night when she'd had the chance. It was stupid of her. And with Dmitri always present, she couldn't do anything.

Marik had said Dmitri had a plan of his own. What could it be? And did it have anything to do with the gathering of leaders that would take place tonight?

Morgan set down the welding gun and slipped off her gear.

"What are you doing?" Dmitri asked.

"I need a break. My shoulders are killing me."

"We keep working."

"I haven't eaten anything in over a day and I'm tired. Just give me five minutes to regroup." While initially it had been Morgan's choice not to eat, she'd scarf down anything set in front of her now.

"A few minutes won't hurt," Liam said. "We've already completed three boxes."

"Five minutes, then work." Dmitri took off his gear as well.

"And food?" Liam questioned, his eyes speaking volumes of his hunger.

"Sonya does not feed those who will die."

Morgan walked over to Liam, stretching her arms and back.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "How bad does it hurt?"

"I'm just sore and really tired."

He nodded and gently began kneading the muscles that didn't seem to want to work any longer.

"You don't have to do that," Morgan said, even though his hands were like heaven. "You must be just as sore and tired."

"I want to."

She leaned into him, not bothering to argue. She could hear his heart. It was a comfort to listen to.

"Are you okay, angel?"

When she mumbled an affirmative, he placed a soft kiss on her head and hugged her tight. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, and she wondered when it had happened. When did she begin craving his touch? When did she acknowledge Liam's pet name for her? And why did her heart break every time she thought of the end?

"Time's up," Dmitri said.

Morgan sighed and tore herself away from Liam, shaking away the sensation of his arms around her. Those feelings would not help her nor Liam now.

"Dmitri, you must've been able to speak with Marik," Morgan said, slipping on her gloves. When he didn't reply, she added, "Because he said you have a plan."

Dmitri scowled.

"I know you don't want to help us, but we're willing to help you." Morgan waited, still no reply. "Will you at least get us water? Between the fumes and the heat, I'm about to pass out."

Dmitri's scowl never moved, but he curtly nodded and left the shed, bolting the door behind him.

Morgan picked up his face shield and looked at the inside.

"What are you doing?" Liam asked.

"Taking the batteries out." Morgan lifted the panel. "The automatic adjustment won't kick in and he'll be blinded for a moment. We'll have to make a run for it."

"What about Reed and Trace?"

"We'll have to come back for them. I don't have any other plans, and this is our only window to stop Dmitri."

Morgan had hoped Dmitri would have included them in his plan to save Marik. They would have been far better off with him on their side. But he chose to shut them out and only focus on Marik. It left her no choice but to proceed with her plan.

"If he closes his eyes right away, he shouldn't lose his vision." Morgan inspected a piece of steel. It was the perfect size. If she could rig the welding gun to stay on even when she wasn't holding it, then Dmitri would have to keep his eyes closed. As long as the trigger was compressed and the nose was touching metal, it'd stay active.

"Which way should we run?" Liam asked. "Do you know where we are?"

Morgan shook her head. "I have no idea. As long as we stick together and find a hiding spot, we should be able to figure out everything else later."

"There are guards at the entrances of the house, but I didn't see any on the grounds."

"I didn't see any either. But there are no places on the grounds to hide. It's wide open, not even a tree to climb."

"We might be running for a while before we find somewhere."

"I guess this would be a bad time to tell you I'm a horrible runner."

He smiled. "I think it might be, but we'll run together. If this is our only chance, we have to try."

"Are you sure? I can keep welding and see if another opportunity presents itself."

He shook his head. "This is probably the only opportunity we have. Let's take it and hope for the best." He kissed her softly and then smiled. "And hopefully I'll be able to do that many more times."

She returned the smile. "How did I get so lucky to get stuck with you?"

He laughed. "You can thank Reed for that."

"I will." Morgan's smile slipped. Not only did they have to successfully escape, but then they had to come back for Reed and Trace.

"One step at a time," Liam said, reading her thoughts. "We'll do it together."

The scraping sound of the bolt sliding open alerted them to Dmitri's return. He tossed them each a water bottle. "Drink."

Morgan gulped the water down, coughing and sputtering when she drank too fast. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until the liquid hit her parched tongue.

Dmitri picked up his shield and placed it onto his head.

She discreetly nodded to Liam, silently motioning him toward the door.

"Break is over," Dmitri said.

Morgan palmed the scrap metal and geared up. She'd only have a moment before Dmitri would realize what she'd done. It was now or never.

Morgan took a breath and steeled her nerves. She knew what she had to do.

Dmitri held the pieces together. "Weld," he ordered.

Morgan pressed the trigger and slipped the chunk of metal into place. By the time Dmitri cursed, blinded by the light, she was sprinting, tossing off the shield and gloves.

"Follow me," Liam said.

They ran to the side of the mansion, not covering nearly enough ground for escape.

"Where are we going? They'll find us."

"Up," Liam said.

"Up?" As soon as she questioned him, she realized what he'd meant. He was going to climb a trellis to the roof. "Are you insane?"

He didn't reply, just motioned for her to follow. As soon as they reached the trellis, Dmitri bellowed. From the sound, he must have left the shed and was calling for guards.

"Climb," Liam urged.

Morgan began climbing, her fingers catching in the vines that intertwined through the fragile wood. Her feet had a harder time finding purchase. She slipped a few times, hitting Liam hard. He must have had a better grip, because he didn't budge.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Morgan was nearing the top when a guard ran from the back. She held still, knowing they were caught. But he passed by, looking everywhere but up. Maybe Liam knew what he was doing.

When she reached the final rung, she pulled herself to the top. Liam was right behind her, leading her along the edge of the slanted roof.

"They'll see us," Morgan said. "There's no place to hide up here."

"We won't be up here for long. Trust me."

They hurried to the other end. As soon as they reached the edge, Liam jumped, scaring Morgan.

"Liam!" she squeaked. She peered over the side to find him smiling up at her from a balcony.

"Jump. I'll catch you."

Catch her? Was he insane? She'd end up flattening him. Maybe he had the same thought because he didn't argue when she said, "Move out of the way. I'll lower myself." He stepped away from the drop zone.

Morgan sat on the end as far as she could, then turned and began slowly sliding off. Liam grabbed her hips, dragging her to his side. He pushed her down as two guards ran by.

"Sorry, angel," he whispered. "I didn't want them to see you. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm fine," she lied. Morgan was pretty sure she was bleeding from a sharp edge she hit on the way down. But she didn't want to worry him or make him feel bad. He'd only thought of keeping them safe and out of sight.

Now they had a different problem. They were on a balcony, trapped in a place they didn't want to be.

"What now?" she asked.

"This is the balcony to Sonya's bedroom. Let's wait for a minute and see what they do."

Sonya's bedroom was beyond the balcony's doors? Morgan's gaze automatically snapped to his lip. It looked okay now, only a small red spot existed. She'd thought Liam had been hit. But if he knew this was Sonya's bedroom, then perhaps that wasn't the case.

Morgan didn't like the feeling of the serpentine tail winding around her heart and squeezing. It was jealousy, something she hadn't experienced in a very long time. She'd forgotten how acute the pain could be. Was she falling for Liam?

Of course she was. She'd have to be in serious denial not to see it and suppress all of the feelings that had been building in her.

"Won't Sonya see us if she comes in?"

"It's a big day for her. She'll probably be busy until tonight. But if she does appear, hide there."

Morgan glanced behind her to where Liam was pointing at a tall potted plant. If she hid behind it, she'd look like a fat spy hiding behind a thin tree. There was no way Sonya wouldn't see her.

"Don't worry, angel." Liam peeked over the side of the solid balcony.

"Do you see anything?"

"The guards are spreading out, and they brought more help."

"How are we going to get to Reed and Trace?"

He shook his head. "One step at a time. We'll wait for an opportunity."

"Maybe when Sonya leaves tonight. She'll want to bring her guards with her, I'd think."

"If she does, it will make it easier for us. One or two guards left behind can be managed."

Morgan sat and leaned against the wall. Her side really hurt. She rubbed it, hoping to soothe the pain away, but it only made it worse. Wincing, Morgan pulled her hand away and found it slick with blood.

"Liam," she said, fighting a wave of nausea.

"What?" When he looked over, his face fell. "How?" He scanned, trying to find a cause. When he looked up, dawning caused his face to fall further. He kneeled next to her, his hand on the hem of her shirt. "Can I see?"

She nodded and watched as he peeled away the saturated fabric.

After studying the injury, he said, "I think you need stitches."

"I'm sure it's not that bad." She didn't want to worry him, and it wasn't like there was a doctor nearby.

"I don't even have a shirt to give you to stop the blood."

"It will stop on its own." She hoped. While the wound was long, stretching from the side of her bra down to the dip in her waist, it didn't seem deep enough to cause alarm.

Liam peeked through the glass door and tested the handle. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" But he'd already slipped through the door and returned moments later with a blouse. He knelt down and pressed the fabric to her side.

"Is this silk?" she asked.

"It was the only thing I could find."

"You could've been seen."

"I wasn't."

"You shouldn't risk it, not for me."

He sat back, his hand still at her side. "Why not?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Just don't go back inside."

"Were you worried?"

"Yes." She shouldn't have admitted it.

"I was gone for less than a minute and you're bleeding. I'd do it again, if need be." He placed her hand on the silk and then removed his so he could check on the guards' movements. "They've begun scouting the roads by vehicle."

"They think we ran."

Liam nodded. "We're in the clear for now."

"And then what?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, angel. But we'll figure something out."

"So we wait here?"

"For now." He sat next to her again and resumed the silk ministrations. If it wasn't for the fact that the shirt belonged to Sonya, and she was bleeding, Morgan might have enjoyed it.

"Just relax," he said. "Everything will be fine if we're patient."

Somehow Morgan didn't think patience would help them. But to continue this moment with Liam, she would be.

Chapter 21

When Piper and Greer couldn't find Grandpa anywhere, and he didn't answer his phone, they decided to drive to Vegas. After an entire night on the road with Greer's heavy foot, they finally made it as the sun rose. The only thing that kept them awake was worry and a gallon of coffee. If it wasn't for Grandpa and Morgan, Piper would have demanded they pull over and sleep.

And after a whole night of thinking, she still couldn't understand how Grandpa was involved in this. She couldn't wrap her head around his tattoos and prison time. Grandpa! It just didn't make sense. He never spoke with an accent and never talked about anything Russian. He wouldn't even speak about politics if it had to do with Russia, and he loved politics. Piper never thought anything of it until now. And now that she had, it was as if he was purposely leading them down a different path than the one he had walked.

"I think someone is following us," Greer said, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Why do you think that?"

"He exited at the same time and has been behind us for at least an hour."

"It's probably a coincidence."

Greer turned on a side road and immediately turned again. "He's still following us."

Piper peeked behind to see the car but saw a motorcycle instead. The rider was wearing black leather with a black helmet. "I still think it's a coincidence."

"Piper, it's not a coincidence. I just drove in a circle and he's still tailing me."

"Can you try to lose him?"

"I'm trying!"

"How far away are we?"

"To where, Piper? I have no idea where we're going. I have no idea where Grandpa could be."

"Then we have to find the Ivankovs."

"And how do you suggest we do that? We can't stop at the gas station and ask for directions, especially not with someone tailing us."

"Just lose him and we'll figure out the rest after."

Greer rolled her eyes. "Sure, just lose him. Thank you for your advice."

Piper dipped her head so she could see the motorcycle in the side mirror. Greer was right. He wasn't giving them any space, and he wasn't trying to hide that he was following them.

The rider motioned for them to pull over.

"Did he just tell us to stop?" Greer asked.

"I think so."

"Then he has porridge for brains." Greer sped up.

"Hang on," Piper said. Something about this felt off, and not because they were being followed, nor because she was now experiencing caffeine jitters. It felt familiar somehow. She whipped her head around to take a better look. "Greer, it's —"

Greer screamed and slammed on the brakes. Piper had only a moment to see a semi-truck pass in front of them. Greer clipped the end of the trailer, sending them spinning into a light pole.

* * *

Liam watched Morgan warily. He had told her to relax and be patient, but he could tell she was struggling. He didn't blame her. Liam wanted to get her as far away from this place as possible. Morgan was his primary concern at the moment. He'd deal with Trace and Reed after. How, he had no idea. He couldn't even help Morgan without injuring her.

His stomach had dropped when he saw her bloody shirt. She'd end up with a scar for sure, and it was entirely his fault. The way he was going, he might end up getting her killed before finding safety. It'd been an insane idea to climb the roof and hide on the balcony. But there'd been no other options. The mansion sat on acres of land that had no trees or nooks to hide in; it was flat and endless. Morgan's truck sat in the long driveway, but Dmitri held the keys.

"What are you thinking?" Morgan asked.

"I wish I knew how to hotwire a truck."

"You didn't learn that in school?"

He looked at her, unsure if she was teasing. "No, it wasn't in the curriculum. Did you?"

"No, but I distinctly remember you saying you were good at everything."

"I didn't say that."

"I'm pretty sure you did."

He smiled unexpectedly. "Can I modify what I said? I was being an ass."

Morgan nodded. "Please do. I'd like to know what you're bad at."

"Why?"

"So the rest of us won't feel incompetent."

He laughed. "Instead of listing all of my faults, including having a large ego, it seems, let me apologize."

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because then I'd have to do the same. Plus, you're not so bad. I rather like you when you think you know everything."

He leaned over and kissed her. "You just like arguing with me."

A sly smile escaped. "I never said that."

Liam could have sat all day talking nonsense with her, but she looked a little pale. "How's your side? Does it hurt?"

"Just a little."

"Let me see."

She moved the cloth, revealing that the wound was inflamed. He didn't want to worry her, but he had to get her to a doctor. Most likely, her body would fight any infection, but there were no guarantees and he didn't want to take any chances.

"It looks bad, doesn't it?" Morgan looked down. "But I think the bleeding stopped."

It had slowed, but there was still fresh blood seeping out. "We'll go to the hospital as soon as we can." He peered over the balcony edge. "The guards are still out. I'm afraid they'll figure out we're here if we stay too much longer."

"What should we do?"

He thought about the truck again. "If I knew how to hotwire, we could take your truck."

"Would it help if I had a key?"

"Do you?"

She smiled. "I'm nothing if not prepared. There's a spare taped in the wheel well."

"Will you be okay to run?"

"If it gets us off this balcony, I'm okay for anything."

Us. That simple word wound its way around his heart. He knew she might not have meant it the way his heart had heard it, but it felt like more. Normally, he steered away from more, but he liked it coming from her.

"How far of a jump down is it?" she asked.

He scratched his jaw, annoyed at the stubble that had taken over his normally clean-shaven face. "It's too far," he said. If they attempted to jump, he'd end up breaking her leg as well. "We'll have to go down the stairs. I'll go see if the hall is clear."

"I'll go with you." She attempted to stand but groaned and clutched her side.

"Stay here. I'll only be a moment."

"No, I'm coming with you. We can't split up."

He could see the determination in her eyes and so helped her to stand. When she'd caught her breath, she gave a nod to proceed. Liam quietly opened the door and listened for sounds. When he was sure it was safe, he took Morgan's hand.

Stepping into Sonya's bedroom, he waited again for sounds. The last time he'd entered her room to retrieve the shirt he was too worried about Morgan and didn't use caution. He should have. There was no excuse for it. This time would be different.

He noticed Morgan studying the room as if she was taking notes. Did she like the bedroom? He couldn't see her as the red-with-gold-trim type. He saw her as she was in her bedroom, soft brushed steel and lavender. It was perfect for her.

As they moved across the room, her steps in sync with his, he knew he'd do anything to protect her.

"Did you hear that?" She stopped to listen.

"Someone is coming." He pulled her to the walk-in closet and closed the door. He'd found on his first trip into Sonya's room that her closet was bigger than his office. It didn't surprise him. She was used to such luxuries.

He hated them on principle.

Liam had purposely designed his own house small. While he had to have nice clothes for work, he loved the simplicity of a minimalistic existence. Even Morgan's house was refreshing compared to this mansion. She had what she needed and a few things to make it cozy and inviting, but there wasn't wasted excess.

Sonya's voice shrilled from outside the door. "Are you sure?"

" _Da_ , Nikolai Pavlovich is coming."

"He will ruin everything!"

"There is no way to stop him."

Sonya cursed and then was silent for a moment before saying, "We can stop him. We just need his granddaughter. Have you found her yet?"

" _Nyet_."

"We need her! The only way we can control him is if we use her as leverage."

"What about the other granddaughters?"

"They are too far away, and we are running out of time."

"They are in Vegas."

"When did you learn this?" she asked.

"A few minutes ago."

"Get them! Bring them here."

"It might be a problem. They are at the hospital."

"Why?"

"There was an accident."

Sonya swore again. "I don't care what you have to do. Get them!" Sonya's footsteps passed by the closet door. "Without them, Nikolai can't be controlled. He will turn everyone against me."

"Does he still have sway amongst the leaders?"

Sonya laughed. "He could take down Russia if he wanted to. The only thing he values is his family. Without them, we're dead."

"I will go."

The door clicked closed and a glass object crashed against the closet door. Sonya screamed an oath, cursing Nikolai.

Liam didn't like the conversation he'd just overheard. A puzzle piece dangled in front of him, but he wasn't sure how it fit. He had a bad feeling it had to do with Morgan and her sisters. But who was Nikolai? Were they speaking of Walter? And how did he wield enough power to take down not only Sonya but Russia? He imagined the frail, aging man he had met at Brennan, but it just didn't make sense.

Sonya was searching for something. Drawers opened and slammed shut. Liam feared she might come to the closet next, but then the bedroom door clicked open and closed.

"Is she gone?" Morgan whispered.

Liam pressed his ear against the door. "I think so."

He had wanted to bring Morgan to the hospital, but was now wary. If Sonya's thugs went to the hospital to pick up Nikolai's granddaughters, they were bound to run into them. That's if they could escape. They still had to deal with the guards.

Liam quickly searched Sonya's closet for a shirt he could wear. He should have known she wouldn't have anything suitable for his size, but it was worth a shot. Right before he gave up, he found one tucked in the back. It was his. Why did she keep it? There was nothing special about the shirt, just a faded blue cotton T-shirt. He had given it to her to wear after Trace had jumped out of the hedges and startled her. She had fallen into the pool with an impressive splash.

"What's wrong?" Morgan asked.

Liam slipped the shirt over his head, finding it snugger than before. "Nothing." He wouldn't look further into the past, not over a simple shirt. He'd known he'd ended things badly with Sonya, he just didn't realize how badly. If he thought it would make things better, he'd apologize as he had countless times before. But nothing he said could change the past, nor did he feel remorse for his choice. Now, he had to think about Morgan.

Liam swiped a blouse for Morgan. "Time to go, angel."

They had a small chance at escape. But time was running out, and Morgan needed a doctor. Plus, there were several hospitals in Las Vegas. What were the chances of them going to the same one as the guards?

He tried to squelch the mathematical odds that took over a corner of his mind.

Chapter 22

Morgan crept down the long upstairs hallway behind Liam. She was sure they'd be spotted at any moment, but the hall was eerily quiet. Liam stopped at the top of the stairs.

"I don't hear anything," Morgan whispered. "Where did everyone go?"

"I don't know, angel. But I have a feeling something big is about to happen. We have to get out now."

"But Trace and Reed —"

"I promise to come back for them. Right now, you need a doctor. Besides, Sonya is more interested in Nikolai than Trace and Reed."

Morgan looked around her. "Even us, it seems."

Liam took a cautionary step down. Morgan followed until they reached the bottom. Still, no one came, no sounds were heard. It seemed too easy. In fact, she wondered if they could walk out the front door and straight to her truck without an altercation. Liam must have had the same thought because he took her hand and hurried to the main entrance. Still, no one stopped them. She was almost giddy with a mix of relief and anxiety.

A sound off the main foyer caught their attention. Someone was running.

"In here." Liam pointed to a room off to the side. They raced into a small sitting room and hid behind a delicate couch.

Morgan recognized the footsteps that were drawing near. It had to be Dmitri. She listened closely, hoping he'd pass by. It seemed as though he might, but then he stopped at the open door. She could see his boots from under the couch.

"Morgan," he said. "You are here. Come out."

There was no way she'd follow his order, but as he came closer, she knew she had to. He'd find her and punish her. But maybe if she went to him, he wouldn't find Liam.

Morgan shrugged off Liam's hand and stood, pushing Liam back to the floor as he tried to stand with her. However, she pushed too hard and he fell back with an umph.

"Tell boyfriend to come out."

Her first reaction was to say no and then to argue the title of boyfriend. How silly to think of a label right now. But one glance at Liam, who stared back questioningly, made her forget her words for a moment. Was he considering it as well?

So, instead of arguing over a point neither of them were ready for, she said, "No."

Liam, however, stood next to her, his hand resting on her lower back. She should have known he wouldn't sit idly by. He was both frustrating and wonderful.

"If you want to save friends, you come with me," Dmitri said.

Both Morgan and Liam stared at him. What was he up to? He didn't threaten or point his gun.

"What are you up to?" Morgan finally asked.

"It is time," he said. "Nikolai Pavlovich is coming."

"Who is Nikolai, and why do I care?" she asked.

"The leaders are worried he will return to power."

"Including Sonya?"

"Most of all Sonya."

"What about you?" Morgan asked skeptically. "Are you worried?"

Dmitri genuinely smiled for the first time since Morgan had known him. "Nikolai has many men on retainer. He knew this day would come. I go to his side now."

"How do we fit into this?"

His smile grew, making Morgan even more nervous. "You will see."

"She needs a doctor," Liam interrupted, pointing to her side.

"Let me see," Dmitri said, removing Morgan's hand from where she kept the silk. "Nothing but scratch."

"She's losing blood," Liam said.

Dmitri frowned. "All right, all right. But we get your men on the way. Marik is waiting."

"What men?" Liam asked.

"I think he means Trace and Reed."

"Oh." A confused expression crossed Liam's face. "Seriously, why are you helping us?"

"I do not help you. Only Nikolai."

Morgan shook her head. Nothing made sense. It hadn't for a long time. But she wouldn't argue with Dmitri. If he wanted to help, she'd accept. She would not, however, trust him.

And who was Nikolai Pavlovich?

Dmitri pulled his gun. "We are ready."

Without another word, he left. Morgan and Liam looked at each other for a confused moment before following Dmitri. Would he be their ticket out?

"I don't trust him," Liam whispered as they raced to keep up.

"I don't either."

"Then why are we following him?"

"Because he said he'd get Trace and Reed."

Liam groaned but didn't say another word.

Dmitri stopped at a door on the far side in the opposite wing. He flung the door open, aimed, and fired two shots.

Morgan screamed.

* * *

When Piper gazed down at the man lying unconscious in the hospital bed, sorrow filled her heart. It had been Van that followed them. He was hurt because of them. Piper touched his forehead near a gash that traveled down the side of his face, missing his eye, thankfully.

"He'll be okay," Greer said from the doorway. "You've been watching him for hours. Why don't you take a nap?"

"No." She was not going to leave his side. Why did he follow them? Why couldn't he have stayed at home?

Greer set her hand on Piper's shoulder. "At least sit down. You're starting to sway."

Was she? She had thought it was the room. "Why did he follow us?"

"He was probably worried about you."

"Me?" When Greer didn't respond, her shoulders sunk. She knew why he'd followed her. It was because she'd always be like a baby sister to him. She should be flattered that he thought enough to be concerned for her safety, but she wanted so much more. And now look at him.

Greer tilted her head to the side, studying Van. "He'll be even more handsome now."

"Why do you say that?" He'd always be handsome to her, but at the moment, Piper could only see the bruises and cuts.

"He's going to have a scar right there," Greer said, pointing to the gash that had been stitched. "With his long hair and motorcycle, he'll be like catnip."

Greer was right. She was always right. And it was hopeless for Piper to even consider herself in the running anymore. Van would only hate her for landing him in a hospital.

"I should've recognized him," Piper said.

"How? I didn't recognize him either. He has a black motorcycle and wears black leather. It's not like that stands out as unique."

Piper sat on the edge of the bed near Van, knowing she'd get kicked off as soon as a nurse saw her. All she wanted to do was crawl in next to him and drift off to sleep.

"What should we do about Grandpa?" Greer asked, snapping Piper from her thoughts.

"Nothing, I guess." Piper shrugged. "It's not like we know where he is. And he obviously doesn't want our help. It was stupid for us to come."

"So, we give up?"

"What else can we do?"

Greer sighed and plunked down into the chair next to the bed. "Some help we are."

Yeah, some help. If Piper could restart the previous day, there'd be plenty of things she'd do differently, including being nicer to Van. Just because he thought of her as nothing but a sister didn't mean it was right for her to be angry with him. She also wouldn't have let Grandpa walk away so easily after dropping a bomb on them. No, she would have tied him to a chair and demanded explanations.

"Was that Morgan's voice?" Greer asked, walking to the door. "It is. Morgan is here."

Piper jumped off the bed and hurried over in time to see Morgan disappear behind a blue curtain. "What's she doing here?"

"Liam is here too," Greer pointed to the man at a nurses' station. "Let's ask him."

They both rushed over, nearly knocking him over in their hurry.

"Is Morgan okay?" Piper asked.

"Why hasn't she been answering her phone?" Greer demanded. "And why is she bleeding?"

* * *

It took Liam a few moments to process what the honey-haired girls were asking. He'd been solely focused on getting Morgan to the ER and Dmitri off his back. Dmitri seemed to be overly helpful, and it made Liam nervous.

Christ, the man had actually shot the guards holding Trace and Reed. Shot them in the head mid-sentence! Liam was positive Dmitri was going to turn the gun on him and Morgan. Instead, he uncuffed Trace, Reed, and Marik, and then walked out the door as if he didn't have a care in the world; as if shooting people in the head and splattering their brains all over the wall was a normal occurrence.

Whoever this Nikolai Pavlovich was, he'd turned Dmitri's allegiance. He gunned down any of Sonya's men who tried to stop them.

The girls looked expectantly at him, Greer nearly hostile, but he didn't even know where to begin.

"Morgan is okay," Liam finally said. "She needs stitches."

"What did you do to her?" Greer crossed her arms.

"Leave him alone," Piper said. "He wouldn't have hurt Morgan."

Actually, he did, but he wasn't going to tell Greer that. He felt bad enough without her clobbering him on top of it.

"We had a problem at the Ivanovich mansion," he said. "But it seems we have a mysterious savior."

"Who?" Piper asked.

"Nikolai Pavlovich," Liam grumbled. "Just his name seemed to open doors and cause men to lose their heads." Liam winced. That was not what he'd meant, but the image was still there. The look on Trace's face as he got the brunt of the splatter would have been comical had it not been so horribly wrong and disgusting.

"Grandpa?" Both Greer and Piper looked at each other.

"What do you mean, 'grandpa'?"

They both looked at each other again.

"Listen, if there is something I should know, tell me now," Liam said. "Morgan and I have been locked up, forced to work, and tried to escape, only to be found by a trigger-happy Russian. So if you have something of importance, I want to know."

"Piper, why don't you check on Van. I'll fill in Liam."

"Van is here too?" Liam looked around. "Did everyone come?"

Piper shook her head. "He followed us and there was an accident."

"Is everyone okay?" Liam asked, allowing the conversation to veer for a moment. It was important to know who was here and what kind of liability they posed. Not that Liam could say or do anything one way or the other since he seemed to be the biggest liability here, but it was good to know and account for everyone. He knew they weren't in the clear, not by a long shot.

On the way to the hospital, Dmitri had filled Liam and Morgan in on the leaders' gathering. There were to be over a dozen high-ranking businessmen and politicians with ties to the thieves in law. Nikolai was to make an appearance. From what Dmitri explained, the floor was about to fall out from under them all. There had been attempts on Nikolai's life before, but no one had been successful yet.

When Reed had pressed Dmitri as to why he sided with Nikolai, the answer was hardly reassuring. But as both Dmitri and Nikolai were thieves in law, the answer didn't matter. They were tied by a code, one that Sonya didn't adhere to.

"Van is a little banged up and is asleep right now," Piper said. "But Greer and I are okay."

"Is anyone else in Vegas I need to know about?" he asked.

"Only Grandpa," Greer said.

"But we can't find him." A worry line marred Piper's brow.

"Why is he here?" Liam asked.

"He just told us . . ." Piper glanced at Greer, tears beginning to form. She shook her head and turned away. "I'll go check on Van."

Liam watched as Piper quickly walked away.

Greer sighed. "Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

"Of course."

"We just found out that Grandpa wasn't born Walter Brennan. He's Nikolai Pavlovich. He told us before he left last night."

"He's Nikolai Pavlovich?" Liam tried not to choke. "He's the one everyone is afraid of?"

Greer frowned. "Who is afraid of him?"

Liam ignored the question. "What else did he tell you?"

She frowned again. "I can't really be sure. When he told us his real name and then showed us his tattoos, my mind seemed to blank. I just remember that he was going after Morgan to end this once and for all. I don't think he had realized she'd taken over the Vegas business when Dad died."

"But she was always going to Vegas. How did he not know?"

Greer shrugged. "We still have clients in Vegas. I think Grandpa just didn't want to deal with it. He said something about trying to get away from it all. Maybe he just wanted to stay ignorant."

"Then what changed?"

Greer shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he finally couldn't turn his back on the situation any longer. He did say he changed his name because he wanted nothing to do with his Russian past. But sometimes a past doesn't always stay where it should."

"Then we have a problem. Your grandfather is going to start a war with the _bratva_ leaders. Dmitri has sided with him and said Nikolai has retainers at the ready."

"What should we do?"

Liam shook his head. "You and Piper will go back home."

She crossed her arms. "Not likely."

"Fine," he sighed, not having the patience to argue. "But at least get Piper to go back home."

"She'll stay with Van." Greer eyed Liam. "Now, what are _we_ going to do?"

"We wait for Morgan." And then he would ditch them here and meet up with Dmitri, Reed, and Trace at the designated spot.

"And then?" Greer prompted.

"And then nothing."

"What about Grandpa?"

"You mean Nikolai Pavlovich, the notorious _vor_ who dangerous men are afraid of? I think he'll be fine on his own."

Greer glared. "Morgan will never forgive you if something happens to him."

"And I will never forgive myself if something happens to her."

Greer tapped her fingers against her still-crossed arms, assessing him. "You like her."

When Liam didn't say anything since it wasn't Greer's business, nor did his feelings for Morgan seem as tame as "like," Greer seemed to take his silence as a reason to keep prodding. She tilted her head to the side as if she could see him better. Maybe she could. The look in her eyes was frighteningly clear.

"You love her."

Liam didn't want to announce he loved Morgan in a hospital, nor was Greer the right person to say it to first, but it seemed like an insult to deny it.

Greer didn't push or prod like he thought she would. She just smiled and said, "I'd say welcome to the family, but . . ." Greer smiled. "I guess we have our issues like all families, maybe a little bit more than others."

Liam didn't even want to start with the list of problems his family had. Having a loving _vor_ as a grandfather was nothing compared to his ill-functioning family.

"Will you check on Morgan for me?" he asked. "I was told to wait out here, but you're family."

Greer smiled again as she sauntered away. "You'll be family soon enough."

Liam wouldn't be as hopeful as Greer sounded. Especially not when he knew his actions would infuriate Morgan. He'd promised if she went to the hospital and saw to her wound, that they would go to the meeting point right after. Liam hated to lie to her, but she was too stubborn and bleeding.

As soon as Greer was out of view, Liam hurried to the truck. He hoped Morgan would forgive him later. He also hoped he'd live through the _bratva_ war to hear every angry word that passed over her lips. And then he'd kiss those pretty lips and never let her out of his sight again.

Chapter 23

"What do you mean he's gone?" Morgan flew from the bed, the new stitches straining against her skin.

"Slow down," Greer ordered. "You'll hurt yourself again."

"Where's Liam?"

"I don't know. I only left him alone for a few minutes to check on you. Maybe he went to the cafeteria."

"He didn't go to the cafeteria," Morgan gritted. The jerk had dumped her and left. He was going to meet the others without her. "Damn him!" Morgan made her way to the door, conscious that Greer was looking at her with raised brows.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To find Liam." She stopped. He probably took her truck, which meant she was stranded. "Where's your car?"

"Heading to the junkyard as we speak."

Morgan turned to question Greer. "What happened?"

"It's a long story, one that involves Grandpa."

"Is he okay?"

"Why don't you sit down and I'll explain everything. At least everything I know."

"There's no time. We'll catch a cab, and you can explain on the way. Liam can't do this on his own."

"Is that what you think?" Greer questioned as she followed Morgan through the hospital and out the door. "That no one can do anything without you?"

"I didn't mean it like that. But this isn't his problem to sort out. It's mine."

"Maybe he wants to help."

"He could help by staying out of it and not getting hurt."

"He could say the same to you. He cares about you."

Morgan whipped around. "What did he say?"

Greer raised a surprised brow and then smiled. "You love him, don't you?" Her smile grew. "What exactly happened in the couple of days you were gone?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing, indeed." Greer smirked. "In any case, this problem you need to sort out doesn't entirely belong to you. It seems Grandpa has been keeping a little secret from us."

"What?"

"Since Liam knows the name, I'm sure you've heard it too. It seems Grandpa is the notorious Nikolai Pavlovich."

Morgan could have sworn three stitches popped open. "How do you know this?"

"Grandpa told Piper and I before coming to Vegas. He tried to stop us from following you. He even showed us his prison tattoos." Greer shivered. "They're not pretty."

Morgan couldn't believe it. Her aging grandpa was Nikolai Pavlovich? The one that was going to take down the _vory v zakone_ leaders? It would have been laughable had the situation not been so dangerous.

"Let's go," Morgan said. "We have to stop Grandpa. If he's going to take a stand, it'll wind up being his final."

"What about Piper? Should we tell her we're leaving?"

Morgan shook her head. "I don't want her to worry. We'll come back for her afterward."

At least Morgan hoped they'd come back after. It seemed a war was brewing amongst the _bratva_ , and they were stuck in the middle with Grandpa as the enemy. If they survived this, she was depositing him into a secure nursing home.

* * *

Liam easily found the meeting spot. It was on a long, dusty stretch of road that led out of town. When he saw Dmitri's car at a turn off, he pulled behind it and killed the engine. He walked around to where Dmitri, Trace, and Reed stood, looking down at a sketch.

"Where's Morgan?" Trace asked.

"I thought she'd be safer at the hospital," Liam said.

"You left her there?" Reed questioned.

"If she came with us and was caught, she'd be used as a bargaining piece."

Trace frowned. "Why?"

"Maybe you should ask Dmitri that." Liam glared at the man who didn't bother looking ashamed. "You knew all this time that Morgan was Nikolai's granddaughter. You treated her like shit even though you were under Nikolai's thumb." Liam wanted to punch Dmitri. But he knew even if he got one solid hit in, he'd lose the battle.

"Nikki knew the rules," Dmitri said. "I owe him nothing."

"Then why help him now?"

"Because he returns and I support him. In hiding, I don't owe him anything."

Liam clenched his hand into a fist. It was so easy for a thief in law to use the code to his advantage. They always put themselves first, spouting they don't kneel to authority . . . only when it suits them.

"What did I miss?" Reed asked, stepping in between.

"Dmitri knew all along that he was using Nikolai's granddaughter."

"And that would be Morgan?" Trace asked.

When Liam nodded, Reed's eyes widened. "Did Sonya know this?"

"I think so," Liam said. "She mentioned trying to find the girls." He still felt nervous about leaving the girls at the hospital where Sonya's thugs could find them. But they were probably safer there. "What's the plan?"

Reed pointed to the sketch. "It's a rough floor plan of the building they will meet at. There are only two entrances and high windows."

"Are we trying to get in?"

Reed shook his head. "We want to keep Nikolai out. If he goes in there it'll be a bloodbath. While I don't mind seeing some of the bastards taking a hit, it'll cause too much of a problem in the long term. If a war breaks out, it won't stop with this one altercation. There'll be violence for years until they come to a truce or everyone dies."

Liam looked at Dmitri. "What about you? Why are you trying to stop Nikolai?"

"I do not stop Nikolai," Dmitri said.

"So, you'll go in with him while Reed, Trace, and I try to keep him out?" Liam questioned, wanting to smash Dmitri's head against the nearest hard object.

Dmitri shrugged. "You should have brought Morgan. She could have done the job."

Liam looked to Reed for help. "I don't understand any of this."

"We split up," he said. "Dmitri will keep Nikolai safe while we try to stop him."

"Couldn't Dmitri just keep him safe and stop him?"

"I'm retainer, not advisor," Dmitri stated simply.

"Then who is his advisor?" Liam demanded.

"Nikki keeps his own counsel," Dmitri said.

"It's probably why he's lasted as long as he has," Reed said. "A _vor_ doesn't have a long life span."

"Then at least tell me the purpose of the meeting."

"There have been breakout attacks from some of the groups," Reed explained. "The leaders are coming together under neutral territory to resolve conflicts before they get out of hand. The leaders want to keep the bloodshed and casualties to a minimum. Having this meeting to discuss their problems is a way to do that."

"And how will Nikolai upset this?"

"When Nikki left Russia, he couldn't escape ties," Dmitri said. "Ivankov pressed him. Nikki came forward and reclaimed rights."

"Pressed him? How?"

" _Vory v zakone_ cannot have family," Dmitri said. "Ivankov killed Nikki's wife. Nikki replied in kind."

Walter killed a woman? Liam couldn't reconcile what he was hearing.

"Since then, they've stayed away from each other. A silent truce," Reed said.

"Obviously not," Liam gritted. "Morgan's been working for Ivankov after her father was killed doing the same thing."

Dmitri shrugged. "Nikki couldn't do anything about Sam. He tried, but son had gambling debt to Ivankov. So, Nikki made deal for Sam work off debt. When son wound up dead, Nikki suspected connection but couldn't do anything at the time."

"But then why didn't the debt end with his death?" Liam asked. "Why drag Morgan into it?"

"There was still need. Nikki didn't realize until recently." Dmitri smiled. "That's why he hired you."

"He wanted me to take over the debt?"

Dmitri shrugged. "Better you than granddaughter."

Liam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Nikolai was no better than the rest of them. "You said he reclaimed his right. What is it?"

"Extortion." Dmitri said. "Nikki is best. Each leader has secret. Nikolai is plague. If he wants, he can take them all down with one strike. But if they get to him first, they dance on his grave."

Liam was to the point he thought he might join them in a jig. He hoped the girls never found out their grandfather's true nature. It'd wound them terribly.

"So, do we still want to save Nikolai?" Trace asked.

"Nikolai is better alive than dead," Reed said. "He only uses his knowledge when someone threatens his family. And if I can arrest him, I'll get my badge back, and he can use his knowledge to reduce his sentence."

"You will not arrest Nikolai!" Dmitri barked.

Reed scowled at Dmitri, who towered over him. "He'll be safer in jail once this is all over with. Do you really think loyal _vory v zakone_ will let him walk away?"

"They kill him in jail," Dmitri stated. "That's where half of them live."

Liam had to agree with Dmitri. Everything he read stated the _vory_ were career criminals who spent a majority of their time inside prison walls. Jail would be the worst place to send Nikolai. But since he wasn't too fond of the man at the moment, he kept his mouth shut.

"Then what do you suggest?" Reed asked. "He's my ticket back to the FBI."

"Take one of the others," Dmitri said, then rubbed his jaw. "Take Sonya."

Reed flinched and then turned away to roll up the sketch. "We're wasting time. The leaders will meet in an hour. Let's get into position."

"Reed," Liam said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You have to let go of Sonya."

Reed glared. "Like you did?" He shook off Liam's hand. "You should know I don't abandon my friends. Not like you."

Liam stepped back. "She's not your friend. In fact, she was holding you so she could kill you."

"She wouldn't have."

"Do you really believe that?" Liam was stunned. "For God's sake, she took over her father's business and took you down in the process. She's not your friend. This isn't your high school crush ignoring you. Sonya's not the same person we remember. She is deadly."

Reed's jaw muscle twitched. "I will never forget." He turned and walked away.

What in God's name was happening? Had everyone lost their minds? Dmitri was going to help Nikolai, and it seemed Reed was going to help Sonya. This was not what he had thought was going to happen. Not by a long shot. Now he was on his own with no help from anyone.

Trace clasped him on the shoulder. "A bit of a muddle, isn't it? But don't worry, Hayes men always land on their feet. Isn't that what Dad always carried on about? Hayes this and Hayes that." He shook his head. "So, is this a bad time to bring up my trust fund?"

Liam snarled at him.

"I'll take that as a yes." Trace gently lifted his hand away. "You're starting to take after Dad, you know that?"

A curse if there ever was one.

But . . . maybe Trace was right. If he was taking after their father, then maybe it was time to step into the Hayes family tradition of intimidation and see if he couldn't make some headway on his own.

"Trace, go to the hospital and keep an eye on the girls. Make sure they're safe."

"What about you?"

"I think I have a handle on things."

"But —"

"Give me your phone."

Trace eyed him for a moment before handing it over. "Be careful with it. I just got it back from Dmitri. Nearly had to beg."

Liam took it and logged into his financial accounts. "I'll transfer the funds right now if you promise to look after the girls until this is done."

"You said the same thing if I found Reed."

Liam arched his brow, his finger hovering over the button.

"All right, all right," Trace sighed. "I guess I'd rather be over at the hospital than here with you three. I'll probably see you there before long anyway."

Liam pressed the button and handed back the phone. "Try not to pray for my demise." He tossed the truck keys to Trace. "Keep them safe."
Chapter 24

When the taxi pulled over at the designated spot, Morgan fell back against the seat. They were gone.

"Why are we here?" Greer looked out the window. "There's no one around."

"They must've left." Morgan cursed. How could Liam shut her out? This was _her_ family!

"Where do you think they went?" Greer asked.

"Probably to the meeting. It's about to start any moment now."

"Where is it being held?"

Morgan shook her head.

"The meter's running," the driver stated.

"Follow this road a few more miles," Morgan said.

"Do you think it's down this way?" Greer asked, frowning as she glanced out the window. "There's nothing out here."

"The meeting will be held somewhere secluded. There's a reason why Liam and the others stopped here first. It must be on the way."

The taxi pulled out onto the road.

"Can you believe Niko —"

Morgan held up her hand, interrupting Greer. "I don't want to talk about Grandpa right now. When he's safe at —." Morgan stopped herself. She had been about to say "at home," but somehow she knew that wouldn't happen. Grandpa was walking into a world he helped create. That world didn't include the words "safe" or "home." Whatever happened today would change their lives forever. "We can discuss it later."

Greer nodded and then sat back to stare out the window. Morgan copied her, numbing her mind to what would happen once she stepped out of the taxi.

* * *

Liam was alone. Thankfully so. As soon as they arrived at the location, Dmitri had said he'd wait for Nikolai at the far end where no one could see them, and Reed stomped off in the other direction. Liam didn't try to stop either of them.

He glanced at the building that was barely standing. The slanted slats of wood were weather-beaten just like the storage unit had been. But looks were deceiving. The leaders planned to meet here for a reason. So, what was the reason? What secrets did this large, falling-down building hold?

He walked the perimeter, knowing he had only a few minutes before he had to hide. If Dmitri's information was correct, the guests would arrive soon. He was sure a few would arrive early to take home-field advantage.

Liam walked around, aware of his surroundings, his senses heightening to the danger.

The back of the building was different. Solid and in much better condition. The front must have been made specifically for deception. Perhaps to ward off curious people? He walked to the door and tested the handle. The door swung open with ease. Stepping in, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

A large oak table sat in the middle of the open room with twelve comfortable chairs sitting around it. There was a door off to the left that he knew wouldn't lead to the outside but maybe to an interior room, perhaps a bathroom. To the right was a serving bar, stocked with various selections. Crystal tumblers sat on a spotless tray. Someone had been here to clean.

As he headed to the side door, the sound of tires crunching on the gravel lot caught his attention. The first of the _bratva_ had arrived, and there was no way he could leave without drawing attention and raising many questions. There was no turning back now.

He raced through the door, hoping to find a hiding place.

The room he entered was hardly anything more than a large hallway with a bathroom off to the right and a closed door on the left. Not wanting to confine himself to the bathroom, he listened for sounds coming from the closed door. When he didn't hear anything, he slowly opened it, revealing an empty square room. What was the purpose of it?

"If you're looking for a hiding place, this room is sadly lacking."

Liam whipped around. "Trace, what are you doing here? You promised to watch the girls."

He shrugged. "I also have full access to my funds and am no longer obligated to listen to you."

"You promised!"

"It's like you don't know me at all."

Liam flexed his fingers, willing them not to strangle his brother.

Trace continued, unaware of the peril standing in front of him. "Plus, the girls will be fine at the hospital. What do they need me standing around for?" Trace glanced around at his surroundings. "It's not really what I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?" Liam gritted.

Trace shrugged. "A little more style. I mean, judging from Sonya's place, this is her sewer."

"You have to leave now."

"But —"

"Where is Sonya?" a voice asked from behind. It was thick with a Russian accent.

"Follow my lead, and don't say a word," Liam whispered to Trace.

Liam slowly turned to find two men at the door. The menacing one standing just a foot behind the rotund man was most definitely the bodyguard.

"Sonya will be here in a moment," Liam said. Now was the time to use his father's legendary bullshit. He just hoped Trace wouldn't say anything, and maybe even follow directions for once. "But it's not her you'll want to speak with."

The older man narrowed his eyes. "Why is that?"

Liam smiled as if he found his predicament amusing. "Because I am taking over."

"You?" The man gawked. "You are not even Russian!"

Liam smiled. "Why? Because I don't have a grating accent?"

The man scowled.

Liam leaned in. " _Ya mogu tozye govoryat lo russky_." He straightened, noticing the suspicion growing in the other man's features. While he might be a tad rusty in Russian, he knew enough to create doubt and to also understand if they started speaking in their native tongue.

"Just because you say you speak Russian doesn't mean anything," the man warned. "Who are you?"

"Nikolai Pavlovich." At the man's stunned expression, Liam added, "Junior."

"I heard Nikki's son died."

"One of them." Liam nodded. "By Ivankov's orders."

"Aren't you a little too young to be his son?" the man questioned.

Trace smiled and gave the man a wink. "Don't tell me you don't have mistresses half your age."

The bodyguard shoved Trace.

"Who is this?" the man asked Liam, disdain in his voice.

"No one to bother with."

"You're looking for trouble by being here, no matter whose son you might be," the man said.

Liam understood that more than the man could possibly know. He took a moment to study him. The man stood a slight inch under Liam, dressed in the most expensive clothes and wearing large rings on his fingers for his loyal men to kiss. A birthmark on his right cheek gave him away. Igor Belinsky. Liam remembered him from his research. He could never forget Belinsky's doings, nor his brother's.

"Mr. Belinsky, with my father's name, I was born to inherit trouble," Liam said offhandedly. "Speaking of family, is your brother out of the Black Dolphin yet?"

Belinsky glared.

To be sentenced to the Black Dolphin, nicknamed due to the statue in the front of the prison, was a sentence to purgatory. Serial killers, cannibals, rapists, and serious offenders were sent there to wait for death, which happened quite quickly with such inmates for company.

"The only way to leave the Black Dolphin is to die," he said, eyeing Liam. "And where is your father? I must speak with him."

"You may speak to me."

"I only speak with Nikki."

"You won't like what he has to say."

Belinsky tried to keep his face passive, but a sweat broke out along his hairline. Did Walter really have this much sway in the Russian underworld?

"Tell him I'll pay him whatever he asks."

Interesting. "My father doesn't need your money," Liam said. "He has more than enough."

"He must want something."

Liam smiled. "Oh, he does."

Two more men walked into the room, turning Belinsky's attention. He flinched slightly before nodding. "Dorosh."

The other nodded back. "Belinsky."

Liam knew his window of opportunity was closing. As more guests arrived, his time was shortened. He leaned over to Belinsky. "If you have a care for your secrets, you will follow my lead without question."

Belinsky glared at Liam but then finally nodded.

Liam straightened. "By the way, Sonya is coming here to kill everyone. I suggest blocking her from entering. But don't kill her or you'll have an FBI agent breathing down your neck." Liam shrugged as if it didn't matter either way. "Just a friendly warning."

"You have your father's gift of spying," Belinsky grumbled. "But —"

"But?" Liam wasn't sure why Belinsky stopped short.

He smirked. "But Nikki wouldn't have warned us."

"I might not have either. But I have a feeling we can mutually benefit."

Belinsky nodded and bellowed for his guard to secure Sonya upon her arrival.

The rest of the party arrived in pairs. Within five minutes, the entire room was filled and the men took their seats, their bodyguards behind them, with the exception of Belinsky's guard. He hadn't returned yet. Belinsky was visibly nervous and kept looking behind him.

Liam hoped the guard had been successful in securing Sonya, otherwise Liam's cover was blown. Of course, if Walter showed up, his cover was blown too. What in God's name had he been thinking? He should have stayed outside. Better yet, he should have stayed at the hospital with Morgan and let the killers and thieves deal with each other in their own twisted ways.

One more man walked in flanked by a bodyguard and a younger man. Trace slid over to hide behind Liam.

"What is it?" Liam whispered.

"It's Edik. He'll spot me for sure."

Liam took a calming breath and averted his eyes. He would not make eye contact with Edik or he'd recognize him. While they hadn't seen each other in a decade, Edik had always come to their house to hang with Trace. He was sure Edik had made special trips to their house when Sonya visited. Liam suspected the younger boy had a crush on her. Could that be why he'd taken up with the Russian mafia? As far as Liam remembered, he wouldn't have any other ties linking him.

Liam turned his head slightly to watch Edik from his peripheral vision. The younger man scanned the room. He was looking for Sonya.

"Trace," Liam whispered. "Go to Edik. Tell him that Belinsky's guard was going to stop Sonya from coming."

"Are you insane? He's the one who tossed me into her dungeon."

"He used to have a crush on Sonya when he was a kid, right?"

"The poor sot was head over heels. Do you know he would follow her from school every day?"

"He's still following her."

"What?"

Liam didn't have time to explain his tangled plan that morphed each time the situation changed. But he was about to start a feud.

"Tell Edik that Belinsky has Sonya."

"And who will rescue me from Edik?"

Liam took a calming breath. "You'll have more than Edik to worry about if you don't go now."

"I'm so glad you forked over my funds. I get to use it for all of five minutes before I die!"

"Go!"

Trace huffed and skirted the room over to Edik. Liam caught Edik's surprise and quick words before he hurried out the door. Trace glanced at Liam and shrugged.

When Walter walked in moments later, Liam thought his cover was in jeopardy again. But Walter merely nodded at him and made his way to the table, with Dmitri following in his footsteps.

The room went silent.
Chapter 25

"Where's Sonya?" Walter asked.

"Sonya won't be coming, Nikolai," Belinsky stated. "Your son filled us in on her treachery."

Walter glanced at Liam. It was the first time that Liam had felt his stare. The weight of it was oppressive, and he could see how many men would crumble beneath it. Liam wouldn't. Walter had hired him for a reason, even conspiring to send him to Vegas. The older man had a plan, and Liam was going to figure out what it was.

"You have a lot of nerve coming here," Dorosh said to Walter. "You've had us looking over our shoulders for years."

Walter raised a brow and settled into an empty seat at the head of the table. Liam tried hard to reconcile the differences of the calculating man before him and the gentle, smiling man from the metal shop. It was impossible to. Even his posture was different.

"What do you want from us?" another man asked. "You hide for years. You threaten us. You hold our secrets hostage. I've heard you even hold something over President Russak. And yet you do nothing."

"Nothing?" Walter asked and then nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, perhaps I did nothing. Until now."

A murmur of unease swept through the room.

"If you take one of us down, you take us all down," a man stated, banging his fist on the table. "Including yourself."

Walter merely smiled. "It's been a long time coming."

"What do you mean?"

A commotion outside turned everyone's attention. Edik and Sonya marched in, flanked by guards.

"Belinsky," Sonya shrilled. "You will pay for your actions!"

Belinsky flushed, his throat moving as he stammered, "It w-was h-his idea!" He jabbed a jeweled finger at Liam.

Her eyes flashed, targeting Liam with a hint of surprise. "I knew I should have killed you!"

"Think of what you are saying," Belinsky warned. "If you kill Pavlovich's son, you will pay dearly for it."

"Pavlovich's son? Liam?" She asked, a crease on her brow. "This is Liam Hayes. Pavlovich's only son is dead." She smirked. "I made sure of that."

A roar cascaded through the men, while Walter stayed eerily quiet. He must have known it was Sonya behind the murder. The news didn't shock him.

Walter held up a hand, quieting the room. "It is time we end this now."

"I, for one, would be happy to see her go," Belinsky said. "Ever since she took over there's been nothing but bloodshed. She doesn't follow the code!"

"The code is for men," Sonya stated. "It doesn't apply to me."

"Because you are not _vory v zakone!"_ Dorosh growled. "We kill her now!"

Walter held up his hand again. "There is no need."

Sonya's gaze snapped to Walter. "What have you done?"

"What I should have done long ago."

"Stop speaking in riddles, old man!" Dorosh bellowed.

"Enough of this!" Sonya shouted. "Edik, bring them in."

Edik casually lifted a finger. A guard wielding a gun marched Morgan and Greer into the room. Liam's heart fell. They were supposed to be safe at the hospital. He shouldn't have come. He should have stayed at the hospital with Morgan.

"There are no weapons allowed in here," a man stated. "This is a neutral zone."

"What is the meaning of this?" Belinsky stood, his fists banging on the table.

Walter didn't seem concerned that his granddaughters were here with a gun to their backs. Whatever Walter was planning, he had to act now.

"I have no use for the _vory v zakone_ ," Sonya said. "It's an archaic system founded by boys who had nothing else to do while they rotted in prison."

"Watch yourself," Dorosh warned.

"It's time for a new regime," she continued, ignoring the rising tempers. "I will cut to the chase. You have two options. You can either die today, or swear your allegiance to me."

The room was silent for a moment before laughter burst from the men.

"I thought that might be your response," she said, undeterred. "So, a little demonstration is in order." She signaled a guard with a flick of her hand.

Liam saw what was about to happen but couldn't move fast enough. The guard aimed his gun and shot Greer in the shoulder. She fell hard. Morgan gasped and knelt down by her, trying to stop the blood.

Walter took a breath but was otherwise unaffected. Did he have no concern for his grandchild, or was he just that good of an actor?

"I am not afraid of Nikolai Pavlovich," she declared. "I will own his secrets, and then I will own all of you. If you do not join me, I will take you down one by one!"

"Funny thing about secrets," Walter said. "They only stay that way if they are not told. But you are too late, because I no longer keep them and you have no one to blame but yourselves. All of you."

"Me?" Belinsky croaked. "I haven't done anything to you or your family!"

"I left Russia for a new life in America, free from the _vory v zakone_. Free from your way of life. Free from death and hate." Walter gripped the table, his knuckles turning white. "You followed me, harassed me, took my family from me! You forced me back into a life I despise! But not anymore. By involving my grandchildren, you have condemned yourselves."

A nervous energy raced through the room, even affecting Sonya's earlier righteous disposition. She grabbed the gun from the guard's hand and leveled it at Morgan's head.

"You have so much to learn about the ways of the _vory v zakone_ ," Walter said, pulling a gun from his pocket. "We do not bow to threats."

Sonya was quick to re-aim the gun at Walter.

"No!" Reed shouted from behind Sonya.

Sonya smiled wickedly at Reed. "You just won't learn your lesson." She aimed the gun at Liam. "Maybe this will finally make you understand." She fired, missing Liam by a small margin.

"Stop this now!" Reed ordered, but she didn't listen, her finger tight against the trigger. Thankfully for Liam, Reed was a quicker shot. His aim was true. When Sonya fell, Liam saw Reed. Saw his pain. The gun that shot Sonya shook in his hand. Reed stared at her lifeless body in horror, blood casting a dark shadow around her.

A murmur set across the room, confirming Reed's identity as Sonya's ex FBI partner.

"FBI!" Dorosh stood, a knife in his gripped hand. "What have you done, Nikolai?"

Walter set down the gun on the table and stood. "I ended this. And if you're smart, you'll leave now. I've spread the word about this meeting to officials, including our Russian comrades. Your cells are waiting for you at the Black Dolphin."

"You sold us out!" Belinsky cried.

"No, Belinsky. I didn't take a dime for giving your information. I did it for free. You have about sixty seconds before the rest of the FBI arrives with extradition orders."

Chairs scraped across the ground as the leaders hurried to flee. Liam rushed across the room to Morgan and Greer. He was about to kneel down beside Morgan when a shot was fired outside.

"I'll be right back," he said, squeezing Morgan's shoulder.

Liam stood by the door and peeked out to find the area surrounded by agents in SWAT gear, aiming guns at the _bratva_ who slowly kneeled down with their hands on their heads.

"So much for not kneeling to authority," Trace drawled from behind Liam. "By the way, the old man doesn't look too good."

Liam glanced over to find Walter sagging at the table. Hurrying over, he found the cause. "He's been stabbed. Help me get him to the floor before he falls."

Morgan murmured soothing words to Greer as she watched Liam and Trace gently lower Walter to the floor.

"Walter, how do you feel?" Liam asked, wondering how serious the injury was.

"Like I can finally rest," he rasped. "Take care of my girls."

"Is he dying?" Trace asked, horrified. "Do we take out the knife?"

"No, we leave it in until we can get help," Liam said. "Go outside and see if you can flag down an agent. We have two injured." As Trace ran to the door, Liam added, "Don't get shot."

Trace shook his head. "After all the work I did to get my trust fund? Not likely."

Liam rolled his eyes. If nothing else in life, at least Trace was predictable.

Reed had been standing in the same spot, staring at Sonya.

"Reed, I'm sorry. She's gone," Liam said.

Reed swore and wiped his eyes. "I thought I could save her. I thought she'd listen to me." His body shuddered as he tried to keep control. "But I couldn't let her kill again."

Liam stayed quiet. He knew nothing he could say would help Reed. In Reed's eyes, Liam had failed Sonya and now she was dead. He'd make amends to Reed someday, but not now, not when the wound was still fresh.

"Help should be here soon." Trace looked at Reed from the doorway. "You had a thing for Sonya, huh? Well, don't worry, mate. There's always another fish in the sea, preferably one that won't lock you into a dungeon."

"Trace," Liam warned softly.

He shrugged. "I'm just saying I didn't appreciate the handcuffs. But if Reed likes it —"

"Trace," Liam admonished.

"What? I didn't know Reed liked them rough. Thought he had more of a sweet tooth. Like that Bethany in the office. Now she has just the right amount of sugar."

"Trace!" Liam shouted. "For the love of God, shut your mouth or I'll glue it closed."

Trace raised a brow but decided it was in his best interest not to say another word.

"Help Morgan tend to her sister," Liam said, trying his best not to snap.

"I'll do it," Reed said, wiping the last of the moisture from his eyes. He crossed over to Greer and sank down next to her.

"I think she's in shock," Morgan said, her own hands shaking.

"Greer is strong," Reed said, placing his hands over Morgan's. "We'll get her through this."

"How do you . . ." Morgan studied Reed. "Do you know her?"

He shook his head. "Never had the pleasure."

"Then —"

"Morgan," Liam interrupted. "Can you come here and help me with Walter?"

When Reed nodded to Morgan that Greer would be safe in his hands, she hurried over.

"Is he okay?" she asked, glancing down.

"If I'm not mistaken, he's happy."

A team of medics rushed through the door, taking over the two injured. Liam held Morgan tightly as they worked on her family.

When the team was finally ready to move Greer and Walter, Liam escorted Morgan to the door. "We'll take the truck and meet them at the hospital."

"I should go in the ambulance."

Reed stood. "I'll go with Greer. She'll be fine."

"I got the old man!" Trace said, following the gurney out.

A third gurney left with Sonya's covered body.

Liam suddenly felt very sleepy, as if he were drugged. Perhaps driving the truck wouldn't be such a good idea.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked.

"I'm tired all of a sudden."

She nodded as if she understood. "I'm like that when I get home from a stressful Vegas trip." She stopped, tears flooding her eyes. "I never have to come back here, do I?"

Liam wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "No, angel. I promise you'll never have to come back here ever again. Let's get your family patched up and go home."

She hugged him to her side. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do. You didn't sign up for any of this, and I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You would have survived like you always do."

She shook her head. "I don't think I could have. Not this time."

He leaned over and kissed her. "I love you, angel."
Chapter 26

It was impossible to stop all the commotion in her head. Morgan couldn't grasp a single thought with so much happening around her. Piper was crying over both Grandpa and Greer who had survived surgery. Thankfully both had a good chance at recovery. Liam was speaking in hushed tones with Reed, who shook his head every now and again. She knew they were talking about Grandpa's fate once he left the hospital. Van was in a room down the hall, still unconscious from the accident. And here she sat, with multiple people's blood dried on her clothes.

And Liam had told her he loved her.

She'd said nothing back.

Then the moment was over, and he said nothing more.

Morgan closed her eyes. She had known this was the last time she'd ever come to Vegas, but she thought it was by her choice alone. Now her grandfather would likely face prison time, if not extradited to Russia on top of it. She couldn't even begin to imagine the devastation that Piper was feeling. She'd been closest to Grandpa since she was just a tiny girl, even living with him so she could stay near.

"Why now, Grandpa?" she quietly asked the sleeping man.

His eyes fluttered open. He reached out with an unsteady hand to pat hers. "I could not bear to see you suffer. It is my past, my burden that I never wanted to share." His unfocused eyes stared at her. "I was afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Of losing your love when you found out. Forgive me for waiting as long as I did."

Morgan leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Even though he'd kept his identity from her, she knew he only did it to protect them. Whatever happened as a result could have been his fault, but she didn't have the energy to think about it. It was something she and her sisters would have to face later.

"If you taught me anything, it's that we are family and we are stronger together. And when you have time and are feeling better, I want you to tell me your story."

"I will." His eyes closed. "Remember I love you."

"I love you too."

When he fell back asleep, Morgan had a horrible thought. It wasn't over yet. There could be backlash from the organization. They were all still in danger, including Liam.

She took a shaky breath, knowing what she'd have to do. But would she have the strength to do it?

* * *

Liam watched Morgan from the doorway. She had been speaking with her grandfather, and he didn't want to interrupt. But then Walter fell asleep and Morgan leaned back against the chair, her eyes focused on the sleeping man.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Morgan's tired gaze flickered to him and his heart squeezed. He wasn't upset that she hadn't returned the feelings that came flying unedited out of his mouth. He wouldn't lie and say it didn't hurt, but he couldn't be angry. Her grandfather and sister had been injured, and they'd only known each other a short time. It was the worst possible timing to announce that he loved her. He just hoped she wouldn't push him away if she didn't feel the same. Sometimes it took time to love, and he was patient. If he thought about it, he'd already waited for her his whole life. He just didn't know it until recently. Maybe the same would happen for Morgan.

He could only hope.

"I'm trying to figure out what will happen now," she said. "Did Reed tell you anything?"

Liam nodded. "Are you sure you want to discuss this here?"

"What else is there to do?"

He could think of a million things that'd be more pleasant, including filing taxes or enduring Trace's antics for another twenty-three years. But her strained face told him she wouldn't rest until she knew everything. Liam sat down beside her and placed his hand on hers. She didn't flinch or pull away, which was a good sign.

"Reed doesn't know much since he's no longer on the inside. If his hunch is correct, your grandfather might serve a reduced sentence depending upon his cooperation. He already gave the FBI information on every crime lord present, which may help his case."

"But he's eighty-five!" Her brow furrowed.

"The law doesn't care about age. He will have to face his past."

Morgan shook her head. "I still can't believe it. How could he be Nikolai Pavlovich?"

"I know, angel. I was stunned too."

She was silent for a moment before saying, "This will sound horrible, but I'm not sorry she's dead."

"The Ivankovs have hurt your family for a long time. Sonya was going to kill us and the entire crime syndicate. Something in her snapped, and your grandfather took action. It doesn't make it right, but . . ." Liam shrugged, not sure how to finish his thoughts. "Reed will have many black nights because of it."

"I feel sorry for him," she said. "But he did it out of defense. She would have shot you and the rest of us if she'd had the chance."

Liam nodded and then asked, "What do I call him now? I keep thinking of him as Walter."

Morgan glanced at her grandfather. "He will always be Grandpa Walter to me."

Liam leaned over and kissed her forehead. "We'll get this sorted out."

Morgan looked at him oddly, almost with remorse. "Liam, I don't know how to say this . . ."

Those were words he didn't want to hear. Nothing good could come from a start like that.

"If it's about what I said before, you don't have to say it back. I blurted it without thinking of your feelings and what you've been through."

Morgan shook her head. "It's not that. Well, not really."

"Then what is it?"

"I think I need time to process all of this. Alone." She couldn't keep eye contact with him. It was as if she was looking everywhere except at him. "I — It's not that I don't like you, but with everything that's happened, I need space."

"You can have all the space you want. I just want to help where I can."

"I don't need your help," she said, her voice agitated.

"I know you don't need it," he said, trying to calm her. "You're capable of handling it all on your own. I just thought it'd be nice to have someone to lean on."

"You've been very sweet, and I don't know what I would've done without you, but now I have to do the rest on my own."

"Why?" he asked a little more harshly than he meant to.

"Liam, I don't want to fight."

"I don't either. But you aren't making sense. Will you turn away your sisters' help, or is just mine?" He stared at Morgan, willing her to look at him. "Or is it me you don't want?"

That got her attention. Her eyes flashed as she glared at him. "I don't want to talk about this right now. Just go. Go home, and leave me alone."

Liam's chest constricted. He couldn't breathe. Was she really sending him on his way as if the past days hadn't mattered? It didn't make sense. Had he missed a cue?

"Angel —"

"Don't call me that!" She stood with her arms crossed. "It's time for you to leave or I'll have security escort you out."

Liam stood and took one last look at her before walking out. He stormed past Reed who was standing near the door.

"Find Trace," Liam snapped. "We're leaving."

"What about —"

"She's made it perfectly clear she doesn't want me here."

Liam willed his emotions to hold together. He would not succumb to the jagged pain that was ripping his insides apart.

Chapter 27

Piper carried her bags downstairs and set them by the door. The taxi would arrive any minute. She looked around at the familiar old house that she and Grandpa had shared, committing it to memory. It would have to last her while she was away.

It had been two months since the "Vegas incident" as they were now referring to it. Because of his cooperation, Grandpa had been sentenced to five years at a minimum-security prison. The lawyer said with his age, failing health, and good behavior, his sentence could be reduced to a year.

Morgan was beside herself trying to run the business alone and barking at anyone who tried to help. Greer made the unfortunate mistake of bringing up Liam, to which Morgan grew a second head. Greer quickly promised to never speak his name again.

And Van . . .

How could she have ruined a relationship that hadn't existed? It was as if he and Morgan shared the same temper. Anytime Piper drew near he'd pick a fight with her.

She looked down at the paper she was holding. It was her salvation. The day she received the letter, she knew what she had to do. No one wanted her around anyway. And Grandpa was gone for at least a year.

The taxi pulled into the driveway. Piper looked around one last time, picked up her bags, and left.

It was time to follow her dreams.

* * *

Trace cringed at the clutter lining the hallway to Liam's office. Bethany stood just outside his door, reading messages.

"For the tenth time, I'm not in!" Liam barked.

Bethany looked to Trace for help.

"Still at it?" he asked.

She nodded. "He's breaking apart the desk as we speak."

"I didn't think my brother would fall so easily. Who would have guessed he was a sentimental fool?"

"I heard that!" Liam snapped.

"Good. I'd hate to add hearing loss as well."

Liam stomped to the door, sleeves rolled to his elbows, sweat trickling down his neck. He looked like the stuff nightmares were made from.

"You look like shit," Trace said.

"I gave you full access to your trust fund. What the hell are you doing here?"

Trace raised a brow. "I guess I can add a loss of manners to the list. But never mind that." He swept into the office before Liam could slam the door in his face, which he'd done a few times recently. The man was becoming insufferable and all for a bit of lace. Well, maybe not lace if they were speaking of Morgan. She was more the sturdy cotton type.

Liam ignored Trace and went back to his desk, sledge hammer gripped in his hand.

"You really are breaking the desk," Trace said. "I thought Bethany was exaggerating."

"I hate this desk." Liam took a swing at it, cracking a section of the wood clear off.

"It didn't seem to bother you before. In fact, many things didn't seem to bother you. Well, except me. And now you're beating a defenseless desk."

Liam tossed down the hammer and took a breath. "I'm working through a few things."

"Like Morgan?"

Liam glared.

"She used you and sent you on your way," Trace said. "I get it."

"No, she didn't." Liam crossed his arms. "I really thought she would've called by now. I gave her the space she said she wanted, and now that Walter is in jail and life is moving on, I thought she'd call."

"Did you try calling her? Maybe she's afraid after your last conversation."

"I told her I loved her," Liam snapped. "What is there to be afraid of?"

"So soon?" Trace's lip curled. "Rookie move."

"Get out!"

"I can see you're still a little sensitive." Liam made a threatening move toward him. Geesh, the poor guy was more lovesick than Trace realized. Good thing Liam had him for a brother. Trace quickly raised his hands in surrender. "I just have a request, and then I'll be out of your hair."

"What?"

"Stephanie is sick and can't do the afternoon tour."

"And?"

"You need to cover for her."

Liam looked as if he was about to launch across the room and throttle him. "Why do I need to cover for her?"

"There is no one else to do it."

"What about you?"

"You know I can't do the tour. I know nothing about this place."

"And what about my other seventy-five employees?"

"Busy."

Liam propped his hands on his hips.

"And," Trace continued, "you are the best at it. Plus, you need a little distraction that isn't so destructive." He looked around the office. "Really, there isn't too much left in this office that you can destroy."

Liam picked up one of the many glass paperweights and tossed it back and forth in his hands.

"You look very menacing, but we both know you won't throw it at me."

When Liam took aim, Trace scurried from the office, slamming the door behind him.

"The tour begins at three," Trace yelled through the door. "I suggest you shower and change before."

The door shook from the launched paperweight.

"He's getting worse," Bethany whispered.

Trace draped his arm around the pretty assistant. "No worries. He'll be back to normal by nightfall."

Now, it was up to Greer.

And his hands were now free for other things.

"Oh!" Bethany gasped. Her hands flew to her tight derrière. "Did you just grab my butt?"

Trace unapologetically smiled. "We have plenty of time for a private tour," he said, nodding toward his seldom-used office.

Her mouth dropped open, revealing her sweet pink tongue. God, what he could do with that tongue.

A sly smile curved onto her lips, and he knew his day was looking up. He led her to the office and kicked the door closed. "I think I might like office work after all."

She giggled and perched on his desk, looking every bit of his office daydreams.

Yes, he definitely liked his job.

* * *

Morgan tried to ignore Greer, but it was nearly impossible. She was standing in front of her desk, glaring.

Greer crossed her arms. "Why are you being so stubborn? I booked a tour at Cast Again Foundry at three."

"I don't have time," Morgan stated.

"You never have time."

"I didn't realize how much Grandpa did. Between his workload and mine, I can't keep up."

"That is your own fault," Greer said. "We all asked if we could help and you shot us down."

Morgan winced.

"Sorry, bad choice of words. You're still having nightmares, huh?"

"Aren't you?" Morgan asked. "You're the one who was shot."

Greer shrugged. "Bad stuff happens, but it's over now. I might still jump at a car backfiring or a loud door slamming, but that's just the after jitters."

Morgan leaned back in her chair. "Do you really think it's over?"

"Most of the _bratva_ have been extradited. And even though Grandpa is in jail, he still has a few secrets up his sleeve to keep the rest at bay."

"How do you know?"

Greer smiled. "It's Grandpa! It took us over twenty years to find out his real name is Nikolai Pavlovich. The man is a vault of secrets. He didn't give them all up."

"You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right." Greer put her hands onto the desk and leaned forward. "Is that what you're waiting for? Did you think we were going to feel a backlash from this?"

Morgan nodded. "I was sure we would."

Greer studied her. "And that's why you kicked Liam to the curb."

"I didn't kick him anywhere," Morgan flustered. "And there's no curb!"

"You did! You were trying to protect him."

Morgan sighed. "I didn't want him to have to deal with our problems anymore. If you haven't noticed, we seem to have a lot of them."

"The only problem is you."

Morgan's mouth swung open. "Me?"

"Yes, you! You've been playing mother hen and boss, keeping everyone at a distance. I don't think you're trying to protect us. You're trying to protect yourself but are too chicken to admit it."

Morgan snapped her mouth closed. Is that what everyone thought of her? Was it true?

"You have one hour to get ready. We're going on that tour and I don't want to hear another word about it."

"Fine. I'll go."

"I'll get Papa Bear to throw you in the trunk if I have to!" Greer continued.

"I said it was fine. We'll leave in an hour."

Greer straightened and gave a curt nod. "See you then."

Once her sister left, Morgan dropped her head into her hands, recalling the words Greer had bludgeoned her with. They were true, and she couldn't hide from them. After her dad died, Morgan built her tower and stowed everyone at the top so they wouldn't get hurt. But in the process she did just that.

She had to call Liam and make amends. He probably hated her by now, and she wouldn't blame him. It would shred her heart to hear his voice and not be able to see him again, but she owed him an explanation. Perhaps he'd forgive her in time and she could finally tell him what he'd wanted to hear months ago but she was too afraid to say.

She'd call him after the tour.

Van stormed into the office. "Where's Piper? She's not answering her phone."

"Didn't she tell you?" Morgan asked, confused. It was rare that Piper didn't share everything with Van, but over the last couple of months the two weren't exactly seeing eye to eye.

"Tell me what?"

"She's flying to Germany."

"Germany?" Van asked as if he'd never heard of the country before.

"She was accepted as an apprentice at a metal shop there. You should check out their website. They have the most amazing artists there."

"When is she leaving?"

Morgan glanced at the clock. "Her flight left over an hour ago."

Van leaned heavily against the door.

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked.

Van shook his head and laughed. But it sounded sad.

"You aren't okay." She stood to walk around her desk. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I'll be fine," Van said and turned to leave. "I'll call Piper later when her plane lands."

"Oh." Morgan frowned. "But she doesn't have her phone with her."

"Why not?"

"She doesn't have international coverage." At his stormy expression, Morgan added, "But she said she was going to get a phone once she settles in."

"How long will she be gone?"

"At least a year, perhaps longer if they like her work and ask her to stay."

"A year? She didn't tell me."

"You kept yelling at her."

"I —"

Morgan raised a brow.

Van scrubbed his hand over his face. "When she calls, tell her . . ."

"Tell her?" Morgan prompted.

Van shook his head. "Never mind."

Morgan watched as he walked away and disappeared through the shop door. Was it possible?

"What are you staring at?" Greer asked.

"I think Van just figured out he's in love with Piper."

"It's about time," Greer muttered. "Too bad his timing sucks."

"Promise me you'll stay out of it."

"Are you kidding me? Why would I involve myself in their bizarre relationship? I have enough on my plate as it is."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do." She sniffed and walked away.

Morgan shut the door to her office and spent the next hour working. It was much safer behind the door than in front where Greer was. She was clearly up to something.
Chapter 28

When Bethany knocked on the open office door, Liam was ready for the tour. He had cleaned up as best he could and used the spare suit he kept at the office.

"They're here," she said, her face flush.

Liam hadn't noticed much in the last few days, perhaps weeks, but his assistant looked disheveled. Was he working her too hard? If so, he'd have to offer her a raise to keep her in good spirits. He didn't have the time or energy to train a replacement if she decided to leave.

"Good," Liam said, heading out the door. "I want to get this over with as quickly as possible. Are they waiting in the lobby?"

"Yes, both of them are there."

"Both?" Liam stopped. "Our tours have a minimum of ten people. How did we only book two?"

"You'd have to ask Trace, but I was told they're VIPs."

Trace? One of these days Liam was going to throttle him. "Where's Trace?"

A hint of a smile appeared. "I don't know, but when I left him he was very tired."

"He is the laziest person I know."

Bethany's smile grew. "I'd say quite the opposite."

"What?" Liam asked as Bethany sauntered away.

Sauntered? Had Bethany ever sauntered before? Would this day ever make sense? Would life?

Liam sighed and stepped into the elevator and pressed the lobby button. When the doors opened at the ground floor, he was taken by surprise. Morgan stood near a historical iron mural, her eyes casting gently over it. Greer fidgeted next to her.

Were they here for the tour? He looked around the lobby. No one else was around except for the receptionist. Morgan didn't know he owned Cast Again, so why was she here? When she caught sight of him, her expression shifted to shock, and immediately Liam knew she wasn't here for him. If there had been anything left to his heart, her reaction would have finished it.

Since he couldn't very well turn his back on the Brennan girls without looking like a complete jerk, he walked over and greeted them.

"What are you doing here?" Morgan asked him.

"I own Cast Again," he answered, trying not to be affected by her voice. There was something strong about it, yet it had an underlying smooth tone. Denim and honey, like her eyes and hair.

When she shot a daggered glance at Greer, the puzzle pieces began to fit. Greer and Trace had organized this. At the moment, he wasn't sure if that earned Trace a point or if he still deserved a throttling.

"Oh," Greer exclaimed, looking at her phone. "It seems I'm needed at the shelter. I'll just —"

Greer ran out the door.

"I can't believe she did that," Morgan said, crossing her arms.

Liam didn't know what to say. He had so much to tell her but her crossed arms and furrowed brow told him to keep his mouth shut.

"I'm sorry about this," Morgan said. "She tricked us."

"I take it you don't want a tour." What was he saying? Of course she didn't want a silly tour. Certainly not after the awkwardness.

"It's not that. The tour would've been fine. It's just —"

Him. He was the problem. "I understand," he said, turning away. "Have a good day."

"Liam, stop." Morgan touched his arm. "I was just surprised."

"I can see that."

"I was actually going to call you and apologize."

He frowned. "For what?"

"Everything." She let her hand drop to her side. "I handled things badly with you, and I'm sorry."

Liam wasn't sure how to respond. He'd accept any apology she gave, but was that all that she wanted? A quick apology and good-bye?

"Is there some place we can talk?" she asked. "Perhaps you are too busy. We can do it some other time if you are."

"I'm not too busy. I'd offer my office, but it's being redecorated." She was never, ever to see his office in its current state. It was like a mirror to his soul and she'd run away screaming.

"Oh, okay. Perhaps later, then." Morgan hurried to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I think it's better if we do this another time."

"Unless you and Greer drove separately, you might have a hard time getting home."

Morgan looked out the glass door and swore under her breath. "She really thought of everything, didn't she?"

Liam tried not to feel sorry for Morgan, but he was having a hard time. She was beyond her comfort zone with no escape.

"I'll give you a ride home."

"You shouldn't have to, but I'd really appreciate it. Can you drop me off at the office instead?"

"I could," he said. But he had no intention of doing so. She was the one who had brought up speaking in private. It was better to get it over with.

* * *

As Liam drove, Morgan tried to fill the time with idle chitchat about the weather and work. She informed him about Piper's new adventure and that Grandpa was settling into minimum-security prison with hardly a hiccup. She spoke about everything except what needed to be said. It wasn't until they were only a few blocks away that she noticed he'd taken her to her house instead of the office.

"You were supposed to drop me off at the office," she said.

"I will, once we talk."

"I don't think that's a good idea right now."

He pulled into the driveway and parked next to her car. Greer had thought of everything, including transferring her car back home.

"Why? You seemed really chatty just a moment ago." Liam turned off the car and slid out. "Coming?"

Morgan silently groaned but opened the door. It was better this way. She'd been stalling for weeks, and it wasn't fair to him. As it was, he looked as if he'd lost a few pounds, and it didn't agree with him. She wasn't vain enough to think it was because of her, but she'd lost sleep over him, so it was a possible conclusion.

Morgan unlocked the door and let Liam inside. She tossed down her purse and headed straight for the kitchen. There was still an unopened bottle of wine left over from her sisters' dinner, which seemed like an eternity ago.

Liam didn't say anything; he just watched with patient eyes.

"Have a seat," she said. "I'll bring wine."

"Are you sure you want to drink?" he asked. "You didn't do so well last time."

"You don't have to remind me." She poured two glasses and handed him one. "But I think I need it this time."

He took a sip, looking at her over the rim. "Why?"

"Because I screwed up everything, and I'm sorry."

He took her hand and led the way to the couch. When they were both seated, he said, "And I'm sorry for pushing."

"You didn't." She took a gulp of the wine, feeling the astringent liquid burn across her tongue. "When you said —" Morgan stopped. She couldn't very well say the words right now. Not when he probably hated her for not repeating them.

"I love you," he finished.

Morgan nearly choked. "Um, yes, when you said that, I was shocked. I was going to let you know how I felt, but then I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"I truly believe there'll be backlash from Grandpa's stunt."

"Has there been any?"

She shook her head. "No, but I've recently learned that Russians have great memories and can hold grudges for a long time. Plus, Grandpa told me to let him know if anything happens and he'll handle it."

Liam raised a brow. "Still fighting the _vory v zakone_ from inside prison?"

"He said that's where it all happens."

"You know you can call me for help too."

"Can I?" she questioned. "I know I was hard on you, but it was only because I thought they'd blame me for everything and target the ones I love. I couldn't do much about Greer and Piper since they are family and everyone knows it, but I thought I could at least protect you."

"Did you just say you love me?"

Morgan tried to remember what she'd said. But it didn't matter. The truth was that she did love him. "But I'm still afraid something will happen."

"You love me?"

"Yes, I love you."

He leaned over and kissed her. "I love you too, angel."

Her ears buzzed as the words floated through her head. Was this really happening? "But what about —"

Liam kissed her again. "Walter said he'd handle it. Let him." Setting both of the glasses on the coffee table, he took her hands and kissed each palm. "We can talk about Walter and his misadventures later. Can we talk about us now?"

"Sure," she agreed, even though she'd rather be kissing than talking.

The last time she drank wine, they had made it all the way to the bedroom, although nothing happened. She had despised him at the time. Funny how the situation had changed. But there was still hope. She picked up her glass and took another sip.

He smiled at her. "You wouldn't happen to be nervous, would you?"

"I'm never nervous," she lied.

"I couldn't help but notice you keep looking in the direction of your bedroom."

Was she so obvious? "I just remembered what happened the last time I drank wine."

"You mean when you ate all the pie and passed out in bed?"

"No, I meant when you fed me pie while I was half dressed."

"I like your version much better."

She smiled. "Too bad there's no strawberry pie. It's my favorite, after all."

"Perhaps we can come up with a new favorite."

Morgan couldn't believe her ears. Were they really talking about this? Was this really going to happen? She hadn't had sex in . . . way too long, and she really, really desperately wanted to with Liam.

She could have made the argument that they were moving too fast, but her whole life had been about moving slowly, calculating risks. Here was a beautiful man sitting in front of her who loved her and she loved him. Yes, it was fast, but perfectly so. She would not screw this up again by pushing him away. This time, she would hold on.

"If you look at your bedroom one more time, I'm going to pick you up and take you there," he warned.

"Was I looking at it again?"

"Every ten seconds."

She smiled and deliberately glanced in that direction. His mouth opened in astonishment, but was quickly masked by making good on his threat.

Picking her up off the couch, he carried her to her bed and lay down next to her, his body pressed to her side. His hands moved along her, and she thought she had her first taste of heaven. Kissing him, she untucked his button-down shirt, pulling up the hem so she could touch his skin. She was rewarded when he helped her by tossing off his shirt. She had seen him shirtless before, even touched him. But this was different, this time she knew she didn't have to stop.

Her fingers grazed along his back as he kissed her, their lips and tongues exploring. He playfully nipped her lip and rolled over, taking her with him. She stared at him from above and couldn't escape from his gaze. His hands moved up her side, removing her shirt in the process.

"You're beautiful, angel." He trailed the edge of her bra with his fingers and down the center of her stomach to the button on her jeans.

Morgan suddenly froze. She was wearing her ugly work underwear.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "If this is going too fast, I can stop."

"It's not that," she said. "It's definitely not that."

"Then what?"

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Morgan had to change. It wasn't as if she was embarrassed by her dowdy underwear. Well, maybe a little. But she definitely didn't want them to leave a bad first impression.

She scooted off the bed and hurried to her dresser.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

He came up behind her and stopped her frantic search. "What are you looking for? If it's condoms, you don't have to worry. Trace filled my pockets with them."

"He did what?"

"Long story involving a desk, a tour, a spare suit, and lined pockets. I thought it was odd until I saw you in my lobby. He's not very subtle."

"Oh." Morgan shook her head, trying to refocus. "No, it's . . ."

Liam raised a brow.

Oh, for the love of God. She'd just have to come out and say it. She took a steadying breath and blurted, "I'm wearing my work underwear. They aren't very flattering. I didn't want you to see them. Not right now."

Liam looked confused for a moment and then laughed. "I've already seen them."

"When?"

"You were wearing them as mittens on the airplane."

"Oh! You weren't supposed to see that."

He closed the drawer and led her back to bed. "I don't care what you wear, angel, as long as I can take it off."

Morgan chuckled and pushed him into bed. "Then you might want to hurry because I'm coming for yours next."

He dragged her down next to him. "I can't wait."
Chapter 29

Morgan snuggled next to Liam, listening to the sound of his sleeping breath. It was soothing, something she could get used to very quickly. And if she had more time, she'd lie in bed all morning. But there were some things she needed to take care of at the office.

The night before had made her realize two things. One, she loved Liam; his kisses, his body, his laughter, his smile, his eyes, the way he made love to her . . . she could go on, but she had a busy day ahead. And two, she loved Liam and she wanted him to be a part of her life. Right now, that life consisted of work and being yelled at for working too much.

If she had learned anything over the past couple of months, it was that life was way too short and came with no guarantees. It was precious. She wanted more from it.

Before her father's death and the subsequent office takeover, she was happy. Now that there were no more secrets left to keep, it was no longer necessary to be the workaholic she'd turned into. It'd be hard letting go at first, but she overcame so much, what were a few reassigned tasks?

Morgan slid out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she left for the office, ready for a fresh start.

* * *

Liam turned over, expecting to find a warm, heavenly body next to him. Instead, he found cold sheets.

"Morgan?" He glanced around the room. The house was quiet. He shuffled out of bed and looked in the living room and kitchen. Did she leave?

He groaned, knowing exactly where she was. It was Saturday and she went trotting off to work, leaving her forgotten bed partner behind. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and headed to the bathroom. A shower was what he needed.

As the water beat down on him, he tried to think from her perspective. She did have a business to run, and she was a workaholic. He loved that she worked for what she wanted and didn't rely on anyone else, although sometimes it was a nuisance. And after one night in bed and a few shared feelings, it wasn't right for him to ask her to give up work and spend the day with him.

But she could have left a note or given him a kiss good-bye. Waking up to an empty house was like he'd had a horrid one-night stand.

He turned off the water and dried off.

He debated what to do. He didn't want to make waves, not now. He'd just gotten her back, and last night had been perfect. More than perfect. It made him want to spend every second with her. But since he was a grown-up with grown-up responsibilities, he'd act like one.

He'd leave her to work and say nothing more about it. He had a desk to clean up anyway. Might as well do it now so he'd have a clean, empty office for Monday. Maybe he could buy the desk Morgan had made for him when he'd started at Brennan.

* * *

Morgan glanced at the clock and gasped. She'd meant to call Liam hours ago. Picking up the phone, she dialed his number but was sent straight to voicemail. Was he upset with her? She could understand why he would be. She'd never meant to stay so long without speaking with him.

Closing the office, she swung by her house only to find his car gone. Where would he go? Home, or perhaps his office.

She checked his office and was happy to find his car parked in the empty lot. Parking, she raced to the front door, only to find it was locked. After spewing a few choice words to convey her frustration, she walked around the building, wondering which office belonged to Liam. Unfortunately, there were four floors of office space and she could only peer into the ground-floor windows.

"Liam!" she shouted. "Liam!"

Since there was no one else around to witness, she decided to stay put until he either heard her or she lost her voice. But the one thing she wouldn't lose was Liam.

"Liam!"

The front door opened and she jogged over to it. Liam stepped aside for her to enter. "What's wrong? Why didn't you call?"

"I did," she said. "But the call went straight to voicemail."

"Oh, my battery must have died. I didn't charge it last night." Liam smiled. "I was otherwise occupied."

"I thought you might be mad at me for leaving this morning."

"I can't say I was happy to wake up in an empty house, but I'm not mad." Liam nodded to the elevator. "Want to come up? I was just finishing a project."

"Oh, if you're busy then I won't bother you."

Liam wrapped his arm around her shoulders and steered her to the elevator. "I'm never too busy for you. Plus, I was going to ask you something." He pressed the fourth-floor button and the doors closed.

"What?"

"I'm in need of a desk. Can I buy the one you made for me?"

"No, but I can make you a new one."

"What will you do with the one already made?"

They stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to his office.

"I took over Grandpa's office and placed ads for three new positions."

"Three?" He sounded astonished.

"Sales manager, accountant, and shop manager. Although I suspect Papa Bear will take that job, and then I'll promote someone to take over his." She stopped when they reached his office. "I can see why you need a new desk. What happened in here?"

"Redecorating." He gathered her into his arms. "And I could use your help now that you'll have so much time on your hands."

She smiled. "I'll still be busy. But it does seem like you need some help here."

"Actually, what I need has nothing to do with my office and everything to do with you." He leaned against the wall and held her tight.

"And what are you suggesting?"

"We could take a walk down the hall."

"What would I find down the hall?"

"A comfortable office that's barely used. I could give you a thorough tour." He grinned.

"I might be persuaded."

"And then dinner."

"Sounds good," she followed him out the door.

"And then more."

"More of what?" she asked innocently.

He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. "More of everything, angel."

### Find out what happens next in

### Critical Point

### Keep reading. The first chapter preview is next.

### Critical Point

Chapter 1

Piper sat at one of the many round tables in the large, open room. Uniformed men filled the space. There were two sides; those with badges and those in orange. She was waiting for one in orange. It had been two years since she had last seen her grandfather.

"I was beginning to think I might never see you again."

Piper looked up to find her grandpa walking slowly toward her, a slight shuffle in his fragile step. He wore no handcuffs since he was at a minimum-security prison. It wasn't hard to recognize him with his thick, white hair and mustache. However, he had grown even thinner since the last time she had seen him.

A lump formed in her throat. Grandpa was wasting his last days on earth locked up.

She stood and hurried into his outstretched arms.

"Why the tears?" he asked, giving her a squeeze.

"You were supposed to be out of here a year ago."

"And you were supposed to come home a year ago." He let her go to look into her eyes. "But here we are now." He shuffled over to the table and gestured for her to sit with him.

"What happened, Grandpa?" Piper took a seat across from him.

"A few _vory_ have been ruffling feathers." He reached over to clasp his hand over hers. "I'm more interested to hear about your time in Germany and which boy captured your attention. He must have been handsome to keep you away from me for an extra year."

There _had_ been someone she'd spent time with in Germany, but he wasn't the reason she'd stayed longer than intended. The simple fact was she didn't want to come back, not with Grandpa still in jail and their shared house empty and silent. When her sister, Morgan, had sent her word that Grandpa would be released in a month, Piper decided it was time to return. After a two-year absence, the house would need attention before Grandpa went home.

"There was no one, Grandpa. I wanted to stay and study more."

"I saw the pictures you sent. You've been working hard at your art and it's showing. I'm very proud of you."

"Thank you."

He patted her hand and looked at her as if she was a puzzle to solve. "Why so sad?"

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I guess I'm just a little tired from the flight and time change. Jet lag and all that."

He nodded slowly. "I know that feeling. It took me a week after I immigrated with your grandmother. She laughed at me and said Russians had their own clock and it could not be changed by travel."

Piper smiled. "In other words, you're a stubborn Russian."

He laughed. "I cannot deny that."

She twisted her mouth before asking, "You mentioned the _vory_. You haven't had any serious backlash from the Russian mafia, have you?"

"That is not for you to worry about. I will deal with the _bratva_. You just keep at your art and find a boy to marry."

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Who said I needed a boy to marry?"

He shrugged. "Or a girl. Who am I to judge?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand gently. "I missed you."

"And I missed you. More than you could know." He touched her chin and returned her smile. "And I know someone else who missed you."

Piper sighed. "I'll go see Morgan later. I promise. Right now, I just want to get settled and clean up the house for you."

"I didn't mean Morgan, but yes, she did miss you too."

Piper frowned. "Greer wouldn't miss me." The middle sister was never one for such sentiment, especially not for a little sister.

"Yes, she does. But I was speaking of Van. He came to visit a few days ago and asked about you, wondering when you were coming home."

"That was nice of him to visit. But he was just being polite."

"You don't really think that, do you? He's practically family. Of course he'd miss you."

Practically family.

That's how it had been since she'd first met Van. He had been eighteen and dreamy. The new apprentice at Brennan Metal Works. And Piper was the owner's twelve-year-old awkward daughter. She grew up idolizing Van and falling madly in love with him. Her sisters had said it was just a crush and she would find a different boy someday. Piper never found that boy, and she never fell out of love. It was always Van.

Now, at twenty-three, she felt how weary her heart had become. She made a vow in Germany not to see Van when she returned. But it would be difficult since he still worked for the family business. But once she spoke with Morgan, Piper would follow her own path, one that didn't include resuming her role as the family charity project. Therefore, she would no longer see Van, no longer witness his hazel eyes cast on other women.

So many women.

Piper had watched as he shuffled through all of them. At first it wounded her deeply, but then she realized it gave her a chance. If he didn't love any of the other women, maybe he was just waiting for her to grow up.

It was a dream.

Even two years ago, at the age of twenty-one, he still treated her like a child. They did not part on good terms.

No, it was better for both of them if she stayed away.

* * *

The following day, Piper met Morgan at a small café just down the road from the metal shop.

"You should have come to work," Morgan said, sitting across the table. "Everyone has been asking about you and when you would finally come home."

Piper shifted in her seat and tried to make eye contact. It was proving difficult. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm not returning to work. I'm setting up my own studio."

Morgan sat back with her mouth slightly open. "I can't say I didn't expect that. You've been creating some wonderful pieces. The work you did in Germany is amazing."

Piper smiled and leaned back as well, becoming at ease with the conversation. It wasn't that Morgan was a demanding tyrant, but she was the older sister and had a business to run. Morgan had had it rough for several years after their father had passed. But from their recent correspondence, it sounded like Morgan was delegating more and working less. Piper was sure it had everything to do with her fiancé.

"How is Liam?" Piper asked.

"He's fine, except for his dealings with Trace." She waved her hand, dismissing the topic. "I want to hear more about your studio. Where will it be? Have you looked at places yet? Do you need starting cash?"

Piper slipped a set of keys from her pocket and dangled them over the table. "I just got the keys this morning. You can see it after I set it up."

"Why can't I see it now?"

"Because you're busy and you'll want to help."

"What's wrong with that?" Morgan asked. "I'm never too busy to help you."

"I appreciate that, but I want to do this on my own. I'll have plenty of time, too. Grandpa still has some time left in prison. So, I'll clean the house while I'm working on my studio."

"Do you want to stay at my place until you get it cleaned? It's no bother at all. I just listed it for sale since Liam and I bought that house I told you about." Morgan sat up straight. "Better yet, I'll take it off the market. You can stay there as long as you want."

Piper laughed. "Morgan, stop. You're always trying to look out for me and I love that about you, but I'm staying at the studio until Grandpa comes home."

"At the studio? Is it livable?"

"It's perfect. Just needs a little work. You'll see."

Morgan pinched her lips together but then nodded. "Will you at least come by the office and say hello to everyone?"

"Not today."

"When?"

_When Van quits_.

Piper forced a smile and said, "Soon."

* * *

Piper stood in the front door at Grandpa's house but didn't step inside. There were so many wonderful memories here, and yet she couldn't seem to maneuver an inch farther. Why was she so hesitant?

She felt as though she was no longer the same person. Grandpa was no longer the same man she had thought he was. Everything had changed and yet the house remained exactly the same. Only some added dust and cobwebs proved that it had been abandoned for two years.

Stepping back, she locked the door. Tomorrow was another day. She would dust and air the place out. Right now, she had some junkyard therapy to accomplish. Her first project in the not-quite-set-up studio called to her.

Piper hopped into her aging pickup truck, thankful it still worked. While she had enough money saved for the studio, there was no wiggle room for added expenses.

Pushing all worrisome thoughts aside, Piper smiled as she headed down the road. She had missed her weekly jaunts to the junkyard. It was peaceful there, a wonderland filled with treasures.

As her body switched to autopilot, navigating the familiar roads, her mind was busy making notes of what she would need. And though she attempted to block out all other thoughts, Van was there, whispering to her. While she had missed her family and the junkyard, she'd missed Van the most.

It wasn't just his dark-blond hair, normally kept back in a captivating low ponytail. Nor his hazel eyes that drilled into her soul every time they locked gazes. Not even his toned body, built from countless hours of blacksmithing. It was his voice, always kind to her, always affectionate.

However, the affection was because he thought of her as a child, and the kindness had disappeared after they argued. Why did he have to follow her and Greer to Las Vegas? Why couldn't he have left everything alone?

He wouldn't have landed unconscious in the hospital if he had stayed at home.

Piper blinked away unhelpful tears at the memory of the accident, of his ghostly white face under a trail of blood. A scar along his face as a souvenir.

Nothing was ever the same between them again.

Piper pulled into the parking lot and picked a spot closest to the entrance. Warning barks could be heard from beyond the chain link fence. The guard dogs barreled out of the broken section, which had been there since she could remember.

Two German shepherds ran full force at her, followed ever so slowly by an English bulldog who thoroughly believed that the German shepherds were his soldiers. He gave one gruff bark and the dogs came to a halt in front of Piper. They looked expectantly at her.

"I see you still remember me." Piper reached into her bag. The bulldog, Sargent, pushed through Daisy and Duke. "Yes, I know the rules," she said to Sargent, giving him his treat before tossing one to both Daisy and Duke.

As they inhaled their delicacies, Piper slung her bag over her shoulder and set off through the junkyard, a graveyard of old appliances, machinery, and building remnants. It was all useable metal that she could salvage.

"Piper, is that you?" a man shouted.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Mark, the owner, walking toward her. His adult son James followed behind. She smiled at them both, comforted to know that nothing had changed here.

"Where have you been?" Mark asked.

While he was older than her by twenty years or so, the years had been kind to him. Dark hair sprinkled with just a dusting of silver at the temples revealed his age. His eyes were a mix of blues and greens like his son's. And for being junkyard owners, they were always surprisingly well groomed. Only their work garments showed dirt and wear.

"I was about to call the police to report you missing."

Piper grinned. Mark was teasing, but it was nice to know her absence was noticed. "I didn't get a chance to tell you before I left. I had an apprenticeship in Germany. I just got back."

"And you came right over?" Mark smiled.

Piper returned the smile. "Where else would I go?"

He laughed and gave her a small hug. Piper then nodded to James, who grudgingly returned the gesture. While his eyes were the same shade as his father's, there was something cold about them. She never felt threatened by James, but perhaps a bit uncomfortable. It was disappointing. They were nearly the same age and she had hoped they could be friends.

His aloofness didn't matter much. Mark normally gave her complete access to the yard while he and James went back to work. Only the dogs kept her company as she plundered.

"Are you looking for anything in particular this time?" Mark asked.

"Yes, but I won't really know it until I see it."

Mark gave a nod then pointed to the far west corner. "We have some new stuff over there."

"Thanks. I'll go check it out."

"Let me know if you need help dragging it out."

"I just might. What I'm planning will require a lot of scrap. Is your big truck still for rent?"

"That much?"

She nodded.

"Well, now you've piqued my interest. Yeah, it's still for rent, but if you're planning to buy that much, I'll throw in the rental for free."

"Really? That would be great."

"Got to keep my best customer happy."

Piper tried to keep a giggle from escaping but was unsuccessful. It was good to be back. She adjusted her bag to shift the heavy weight of tools. "I'll head over to the new stuff now. I can't wait to see what you've added since I left."

"Have fun. You know where to find us." Mark gave a small wave then turned to head back to the garage.

Piper looked down at the three dogs still at her heels. "You know the drill, right?" They cocked their heads to the side. "You guard the treasure and then you get a treat after."

Their ears perked. Well, not Sargent's, but he did drool a bit.

Piper hitched her pack up and took off toward the corner Mark had pointed out. She weaved through old cars, refrigerators without doors, and twisted rebar. It was a pirates' haul for her. She marveled at the railroad track and wondered if she could use it for something. Every tossed-away piece of junk here was a part of her palette.

Then she found the spot Mark had mentioned.

Her heart raced as fast as her feet as she circled around the towering pile, a gleeful smile stretching her lips.

"Where in the world did these come from?"

She wanted to buy the entire lot but knew it would cost a small fortune. Perhaps Mark would give her a loan. She was good for it. She could always return to Brennan Metal Works for some extra money. It would mean seeing Van again, but this haul would be worth a week or two of awkwardness.

Piper hurried to the garage and found Mark under a stripped car.

"I want it all!" She barely contained her excitement. It was impossible not to bounce on her toes from the sheer energy coursing through her.

Mark slid out from under the car and smiled. "I knew you'd like it. I kept it in back to save for you."

Piper stopped bouncing. "Really?"

"Like I said, you're my best customer."

"Thank you. That means a lot."

"I suppose you want help getting it home."

She nodded then stopped. "I doubt I have the money for all of it. Can you hold it for me and I can pay in installments?"

"You can take it now and pay me when you can."

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like that. I want to start working with it as soon as I can. Should we go tally it up and work out a payment plan?" Piper was nearly out the door when Mark stopped her.

"I've never seen anyone so excited to buy scrap."

"Just wait until you see what I have in mind for it." Her original plan would have to wait. This was so much better. Inspiration fired up every cell in her body.

When they reached the site, the dogs circled them as if they were the ones who were excited. Most likely they knew Piper was wrapping up her shopping trip and edible goodies would come their way.

Mark stopped and scanned the area. "This will probably take a few trips."

"Add it to my tab. I can probably fit some of this on my truck." She looked at Mark. "How much is this going to cost?"

He scratched his jaw, the barest of dark stubble visible. "I'd estimate about five thousand."

Piper didn't blink at the price. She would have paid double. Only, she didn't have the money upfront.

"We can worry about all that later," Mark said. "Will you want all this at your Grandpa's garage? I don't think it will all fit."

Piper shook her head. "No, I have a new studio. I'm still setting it up, but I'll have plenty of space."

"Can we wait on this until tomorrow?" He looked at the sky. "It's starting to get late and I have a few more things to do."

"Of course. I'll meet you here tomorrow. I have a delivery coming in later today, so it would probably be better to wait."

"Not from competition, I hope."

Piper laughed. "There's no one else. You're the only junkyard in this corner of Utah and you know it."

He smiled and looked thoughtfully at her, his eyes lingering. "Can't blame a guy for making sure there's no competition."

She looked at him, confused. His tone didn't sound like he was talking about scrap. More like he was . . . nah.

Her imagination must be on overdrive.

Chapter 2

Van tossed his gloves onto his workbench for the day and walked through the shop, heading for Morgan's office. She had said she wanted to speak to him before he left.

He stopped at her open door and paused. For a moment, it looked as though Piper was inside. But it was only Greer, leaning down to whisper to Morgan. Both women were speaking hurriedly in hushed tones, not noticing his presence.

He never thought much about how the three sisters looked so similar, each with honey-colored hair and denim eyes. Morgan, the oldest, always wore a strained expression. Though not so often now that Liam had entered her life. Greer was always the instigator. And then there was Piper, with bright eyes and unaffected good humor. They all had over a decade of history together. They were more his family than not.

His own family was a nightmare. He never looked back when they tossed him out at seventeen. After shuffling through dead-end jobs for a year, he stumbled upon the Brennan family. They took a chance on him and taught him a craft.

Realizing Morgan and Greer were silent, he looked up to find them staring at him.

"I didn't want to interrupt your conversation," he said.

"I haven't seen you for a while," Greer said, straightening. "Not even at the bars."

"You're rarely at work and I've been busy." The first part was true, not the second.

She nodded slowly, but her eyes were as sharp and inquisitive as ever. She had every reason not to believe him. Before the Vegas debacle, as they were now calling it, he'd practically lived at the bar. But something had changed the night of the accident.

"Would you rather talk tomorrow?" Van asked, already turning to leave.

"No, I just wanted to let you know that Piper is home," Morgan said.

Van locked his knees tight as a wave of emotion passed through him, a mix of relief and something else. Something he couldn't put his finger on. Something he didn't want to investigate.

He turned to face the sisters. "Good. It'll be good to have her back at work."

Morgan shook her head. "She's opening her own studio. But she promised to stop in and say hello." Morgan frowned. "I'm not sure when. It sounded as if it might be a while."

Van nodded as he processed the new information.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Greer demanded, her hands on her hips. "Last year you pestered us as to when Piper was supposed to return. And now all you can say is 'good'?"

He had stopped "pestering" them when he found out she wasn't going to return that year.

"Yes, it's good that she's home. What else should I say?" He kept the annoyance out of his tone, but the tension caught him by the back of the neck. It wasn't so much the questions as it was the way they looked at him. As if they knew a secret. As if they pitied him.

Greer nudged Morgan, who cleared her throat and said, "We just thought you might be more enthused to see her."

"You said she's not coming here." For Piper to not come directly to the shop meant she was avoiding him. And right now, that was fine with him. He wasn't sure what to say to her anyway. Their last encounter had been nothing but a shouting match.

What had happened to his sweet-natured Piper? The one that used to light up a room with her smile and laugh?

"You could go see her," Greer suggested.

"Just tell her that I said welcome home." Van stepped back from the door. "I'm sure that will be enough."

"But . . ." Morgan started.

He waited for her to finish.

When she didn't say anything, Greer sighed. "Let's stop tiptoeing around the subject. You love Piper and your pride was bruised."

Van let Greer's unwelcome words rain down on him before he answered, "Of course I love her. Just like I love all of you as _family_." He locked eyes on them, daring them to contradict him. "If she wants to see me, she knows where I am."

He tried to exit as coolly as possibly, but it was just an act. His heart banged against his chest.

Piper didn't want to see him. That was fine. He knew enough women who _did_ want to see him, who _didn't_ run away for two years and cut off all contact.

While Piper hadn't had international phone access, her social media pages were still up, though unused. Van had thought she might post updates, but it was as if she'd flown to Jupiter instead of Germany.

Van didn't mean to push her away. He was just looking out for her.

With a frustrated sigh, he walked out to his motorcycle, thankful to have to concentrate on the road. But as he neared his bike, he slowed, noticing for the thousandth time the deep scratch that ran the length of it. He let his fingers trace over it again as he tried to forget.

Tomorrow he would take the bike to the body shop. There was no reason to ride around with a scratch. It wasn't like it was a scar that couldn't be removed.

Van swung his leg over the bike and settled. With a slam of his booted foot, he started the engine and tore down the road.

Keep reading Critical Point

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Books by Nicolette Pierce

Mars Cannon Novels

Deadly Dancing

Predator Patrol

Security Squad

Biker Brigade

Fearsome Foursome

Nadia Wolf Novels

The Big Blind

High Stakes

Cashing Out

Squeeze Play

The Last Tailored Suit

My Traitor

Pocketful of Diamonds

Last Hand

Metal Girls Trilogy

Melting Point

Critical Point

Breaking Point

Loved by Reese

When Rio Surrenders

When Rome Falls

When Edinburgh Dreams

When Sydney Loves

When London Calls

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