Chapter 20
20
Amelia
I AWOKE TO voices.
Opening my eyes, I found myself in my childhood bedroom. In the bed where Morse had given me multiple orgasms last night. The delicious soreness between my legs encouraged me to roll over, searching for the man, thinking I should probably thank him. The room was dark, but enough sunlight fought against the shades to show me his side was empty. Or maybe it was the hallway light streaming in around the cracked open door.
“I’m not waking her up.” Morse’s deep voice came from just outside the door. “She had a shit day yesterday, and she needs her sleep. If you can’t feed us after seven fifteen, that’s no big deal. I’m sure we can scrounge up some breakfast. Also, I think that’s bullshit.”
“Noted,” Thelma said. She also thought that rule was bullshit because she used to sneak me food. “I’ll inform Mrs. Hutchensen that you will make arrangements for your own breakfast. She won’t be happy.”
“She’ll survive,” Morse replied without even a hint of compassion.
Also, I was a forty-three-year-old woman. Hearing him stand up to my parents shouldn’t be hot. But my God, was it ever. Probably because people rarely did. When it came to Mom, I’d learned to fight only the battles worth dying for. Nothing else was worth it. Including sleep, which was why I threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed.
The door swung open, bathing Morse in the light of his righteous indignation as he entered, if his expression was any indication. I snatched a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around me like he hadn’t seen all my excessive goodies last night.
He saw me and quickly closed the door, plunging us into darkness for a second before flipping on the light. “Damn, you’re up. I was hoping you could catch a little more rest.”
His hair was wet, and he smelled of body wash. He wore worn blue jeans and a faded black T-shirt featuring a sasquatch holding up two fingers in a peace sign. My parents would absolutely hate it. For some reason, that made me want to ride him again.
“Yep.” I started backing toward the door before I did something I’d regret. Thelma had been sent to collect us, which meant we were already late. “I’m starving. Gotta hurry if we’re gonna make breakfast.”
Finally close enough to grab the doorknob, I dashed into the bathroom. I still had the blanket wrapped around me, so I wadded it up and put it on the countertop to deal with later because I didn’t have time now. With a look in the mirror, I saw that this mess would take some time to make presentable. Going to bed with wet hair was never a good idea. I looked like a freaking troll doll.
I raised my voice and asked, “Have you heard from Jed?”
“Yes,” Morse yelled back. “Thirteen minutes ago, he sent me a picture of her in the cafeteria. If you come out, I’ll show it to you.”
“No time.”
Morse’s reply was undecipherable as I stepped into the shower. Memories of everything we’d done in here last night came flooding back and my cheeks felt like they would burst into flames.
Yeah, we’d really done that. All of it. The man had stamina for days.
But what now?
Would he want a relationship?
Did I?
Why the hell am I even thinking about this? Don’t I have enough on my mind?
Wishing I had possessed the self-restraint to talk to him last night so we could define the nature of our relationship, I quickly showered and dried off. Towel secured to cover all my X-rated bits, I grabbed a couple of new toothbrushes from the stash beneath the sink.
When I opened the door, he was right there waiting, his brow furrowing with concern. He searched my face like it was a minefield he was trying to navigate. His concern was sweet.
I didn’t want him to worry, so I smiled and let my gaze drift down his body appreciatively.
His eyes darkened. “We can always go back to bed.”
“Unfortunately, no, we can’t.” I waved a toothbrush at him before handing it over.
He ripped into the package and followed me to the sinks. Side by side, we brushed our teeth while stealing glances at one another in our mirrors. Last night, Morse had massaged every inch of my body, yet this somehow seemed more intimate.
Would he actually want to date me?
The bruising on my face distracted me with shades of mottled purple and green. Maybe that was what Morse kept checking out. I would love to cover up, but in my panic to put distance between me and Morgan, I’d left my makeup behind.
And my purse.
Morgan now had control of the one item that held all my identification, which meant I had a fifty percent chance of ever seeing it again. But I was trying not to freak out about that since there was absolutely nothing I could do.
“And Morgan’s still okay?”
“Yep. They’re on the tour.”
I’d have to look at the pictures after we finished with my parents. I turned to go find clothes, but Morse caught my arm and my gaze. “Hey.”
Despite my roughed-up appearance, he studied me with the same awed expression he’d worn last night when he called me his angel. My stomach flipped, and I fought the urge to lean into him.
“Hi,” I replied lamely.
“How’s your leg?”
I opened my mouth to tell him I was fine, but his concern bled into his eyes. He wanted to know. For real.
“It feels like my nerve is too tight, but it’s not as bad as it was last night.”
He nodded. “What about you? Are you okay? You seem… stressed.”
I didn’t want him to think my anxiety was about him, so I told the truth. “My parents are…. complicated. I avoid them most of the time, but they’re helping me out by paying for the kids’ school. They’re not used to being kept waiting, and they don’t like it. I’d rather not piss them off when it’s avoidable.” Pulling away, I turned and headed for the dresser.
Morse followed, his expression unreadable. When I reached for the top drawer, he said, “I brought you a change of clothes.”
I stopped and stared at him because we hadn’t had time to grab much of anything before fleeing the SUV. “From my suitcase?”
“No. I bought you an outfit for the go bag.”
“How do you know my size?”
Alarm flashed in Morse’s eyes, there and gone so quickly I couldn’t be sure I’d seen it. “They’re stretchy.”
What does that mean?
“They’re stretchy?”
He nodded. “Comfortable.” He could tell I wasn’t buying it, so he switched tactics. “We really need to talk, Amelia.”
“That sounds ominous.” When he didn’t crack a smile, I assured him, “We will. Later. After I smooth things over with the folks. And don’t worry about clothes for me. Mom keeps the room stocked since my wardrobe isn’t up to her standards, and we might be seen in public together.”
His eyebrows shot up, but I’d already said too much. Anything more would make me sound like a spineless doormat or an ungrateful brat. Snapping my mouth closed, I rummaged through drawers, selecting under clothes, a pink cashmere sweater, and a pair of white tailored slacks. I couldn’t stop wondering what type of stretchy outfit Morse had chosen for me. Biker clothes? It couldn’t be anything leather. Whatever it was, Mom would likely disapprove, and I was here for Morgan. I’d risked too much to get here to screw up over clothes.
Since Morse had already seen me naked, I should have stayed in the bedroom, but like a chicken, I dipped back into the bathroom before dressing. White pants never looked good on my ass, but a glance in the mirror confirmed the sweater covered most of that problem area.
When I emerged from the bathroom, Morse lowered his phone and looked me over.
“That’s… a different look for you,” he said after he got an eyeful.
“I call it my Wife of a Middle-Aged Golf Pro look.” I held up my hands and spun in a circle. “What? You don’t like it?”
I’d expected him to shrink back in disgust—or at least to joke with me about it—but the heat in his eyes threatened to burn up my curves. “You could wear a potato sack, and I’d still find you sexy as hell.”
Then he crossed the distance, slid an arm around my waist, and kissed me.
All thoughts of my impatient parents fled the building as I leaned into Morse, letting him steal my breath away.
Someone knocked on the door. Before I could answer, it swung open. “Mom?”
Recognizing the voice immediately, I spun out of Morse’s embrace to find my son staring at us, eyes and mouth wide open. “Theo! It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?” I crossed the room and wrapped him in a hug.
Theo patted me on the back. When I released him, he took in the scene—thrashed bed, abandoned towels, and all—before focusing on the man I’d been making out with. His eyes widened with recognition. “Levi?”
“You remember him?” I asked, surprised since Theo had been in preschool when Morse stayed with us. Then again, Morse promised to contact Theo, but he hadn’t asked for his contact information. “Did you guys stay in touch?”
Theo didn’t answer either of my questions because he was too busy scrutinizing the bed as if it were a murder scene.
“Theo—” I started, trying to get his attention back on me.
Color splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he read the situation. Fists clenched, he took a step toward Morse. “What the hell are you doing with my mom?”
Ignoring Theo, Morse answered me. “Ted used to bring him to see me in Seattle. Theo and I didn’t keep in touch, but I know how to reach him.”
I had so many follow-up questions I didn’t know where to start.
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room,” Theo said.
Morse stuck his hands in his pockets, the image of calm in the face of my kid’s anger. “Your mom asked questions. You didn’t answer, so I did.”
“You didn’t know Dad was taking me to see him.” Theo’s gaze swiveled back and forth between us, puzzling the details out. “But Levi called to let me know your phone was temporarily out of service. Wait.” His eyes went wide with shock. “Are you guys together now?”
“That’s not any of your business,” I said as Morse said, “Yes.”
But Theo was already triggered. He stuck out his chest, growing impossibly larger as his eyes narrowed at Morse. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
“No, he doesn’t,” I said, putting an end to this insanity by inserting myself between them. “And neither do I, since we’re both whole-ass adults. Hi Theo, I’m happy to see you. How’s school? Basketball still going well?”
“School’s fine, but?—”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
For a moment, I didn’t think he’d answer, but his manners finally kicked in, and he leaned back on his heels. “Since I don’t have class on Tuesdays until two, Grandma has me come for breakfast.”
That was something I should have known. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “It’s no big deal.” His gaze flickered back to Morse. “Will either of you tell me what’s happening here? Because this entire situation seems sus.”
“That means suspicious. Or suspect,” I explained to Morse. “It’s kind of like the word ‘bet.’ You really have to pay attention to the context.”
“This isn’t funny, Mom.”
Nope. It was uncomfortable as hell, demanding I hide behind humor to cope. Theo finally met my gaze, and I sucked in a breath. It had been a few months since I’d seen him, and now that he was filling in, he looked so much like his father I could barely breathe. Ted had passed down the kind eyes and expressive eyebrows that had initially attracted me to him, and after what I’d done last night, looking into that face was a one-two punch of judgment. No matter that we’d done nothing wrong, that was how it felt.
“What happened to your face?” Theo turned accusing eyes on Morse before returning to me. He pointed a finger. “Did he?—?”
“Whoa.” I threw both hands up to stop him. “Before you finish that super offensive accusation, think it through. Your father wouldn’t have taken you to see Morse if he didn’t trust him.”
“But why didn’t Dad tell you?”
Theo had always been too smart for my own good. I glanced at Morse, hoping he’d shed some light on the subject, but the look he gave me reminded me we needed to talk. Without an audience. The tension was thick enough to chew, so naturally, I took a bite.
“Theo, Levi goes by Morse now,” I said, pretending that this conversation had never turned south and begging my kid with my eyeballs to play along.
It took him a moment, but he sighed and asked, “Why Morse?”
“It’s his road name,” I explained, so bound and determined to sell Theo on how cool Morse was that I didn’t even let the man talk. “He’s in a motorcycle club that helps veterans.”
That piqued my son’s interest. “That’s your bike in the driveway?”
“Nope. That one belongs to Specks. But Morse has a badass Harley, too.”
Morse fought back a smile while Theo watched me like I’d lost my mind, but at least he’d dropped the murderous scowl. Encouraged, I continued my de-escalation attempt by snatching up the biker vest from the dresser and showing it off. “See?”
His gaze dropped to the name on the front. “Angel?”
Oops.
I’d been in many awkward situations in my life, but this one just slipped into the top five because now I had to either explain what I was holding or lie. And I wouldn’t lie to him. “This one’s mine.”
“Your biker name is Angel?”
Why do I do this to myself?
“I didn’t pick it out, but yes. I’m a biker broad now. But you should still call me Mom.”
Shut up! Shut up!
Theo’s jaw hit the floor.
When I opened my mouth to keep rambling until I fixed this situation, Morse squeezed my shoulder and tagged in.
“Let’s go meet your parents.”
* * *
“Mom, Dad, this is my… this is Morse.”
Since breakfast was over by the time we emerged, we found my parents in the piano room. Like the rest of this side of the house, it was bright with daylight thanks to the massive windows. A gorgeous baby grand piano was the focal point of the room, surrounded by plush luxury sofas. Sometimes, my mother liked to play while they entertained. My parents sat together on a sofa, Dad holding a newspaper and Mom studying her phone.
“Morse?” Mom lowered her cell to her lap and eyeballed him like he was about to beg for cash. With her gaze flickering over his beard and outfit, it was impossible to tell which detail she loathed more. “What a peculiar name.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ignoring her blatant attempt to collect more information, Morse positioned himself to watch all the doorways simultaneously as if expecting hitmen to rush us.
Theo, who didn’t seem to know what to do, lingered beside me, watching the car wreck in progress.
“Morse has been helping me,” I said, moving the conversation along.
Mom’s attention shifted to me. “What happened to your face?”
Dad, who hadn’t noticed anything was different, sat up, instantly ready to play concerned father.
Though I didn’t regret any of my extra-curricular activities last night, I suddenly wished Morse and I had spent a few minutes forming a game plan because I wasn’t prepared to face their scrutiny.
“It’s nothing,” I assured them, sitting on the sofa across from them with Morse and Theo on either side of me.
“What do you mean, nothing?” Mom asked. “What happened?”
“A sniper shot out her window on the way here,” Morse said.
Everyone spoke at once.
Morse needed to work on his delivery.
I held up my hands, trying to ward off the barrage of questions. “I’m fine. Everyone’s okay.”
“Someone put a hit out on Amelia,” Morse said, watching my parents like he was looking for a reaction, but neither seemed to believe him.
“Shot out what window?” Dad asked. “Isn’t that your motorcycle parked beside the garage?”
“We changed vehicles after the shooting,” Morse said.
“Is this why you haven’t been answering your phone?” Mom asked. “Where have you been staying?”
Morse squeezed my knee, silently asking to take the lead in this interrogation, and I gladly sealed my lips closed. Dad’s gaze dropped to Morse’s hand, and he scoffed.
Morse tensed. Addressing my mom, he said, “We didn’t want anyone tracking her through her phone. She and Morgan have been staying at an undisclosed location where they are safe.”
“Yet someone shot out her window.”
“Because you insisted she come here, putting her life in danger.”
“We didn’t know.” Mom faced me. “Why didn’t you tell us about this?”
Did she not hear how crazy it all sounded? “Would you have believed me?”
My parents seemed to consider the question for a split second, but neither answered.
“Morse and his fellow veteran bikers have been protecting me,” I said.
Mom’s smile turned saccharin. “That’s wonderful to hear, dear. It was a pleasure to meet you, Morse, but we need a word with our daughter now,” she said.
Morse didn’t move.
Mom’s smile slipped. “Alone.”
Morse dipped his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that can’t happen.”
“Why the hell not?” Dad asked.
“Because Amelia’s in danger, and I’m not letting her out of my sight until the threat has passed.”
Morse’s protective declaration warmed my insides even as Dad’s frosty glare chilled the room.
“You should get back to school, Theodore,” Dad said.
“Yes, sir.” Theo stood, his expression apologetic when he faced me. “But you are okay, right, Mom?”
I nodded. “I am. Thanks to Morse.”
My son reached across me and shook Morse’s hand. “Thank you.”
I hugged Theo, and he left.
Then Dad picked up right where we’d left off. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m perfectly capable of protecting my daughter in my own home.”
“Based on what?” Morse asked. “You can’t beat off a sniper with a golf club.”
I should probably put an end to this, but then again, why? I had to play nice, but Morse wasn’t bound to the same restraint. We weren’t his monkeys, and this certainly wasn’t his circus. He didn’t have to walk their tightrope. In fact, it was a relief to hear him speak his mind. Most people groveled at my father’s feet.
Dad shot off the couch, eyes flaring with belligerence and hands shaking with rage. “Get out of my house.”
Morse leaned back on the sofa, unbothered. “I’m not going anywhere until Amelia does.”
Dad brandished his phone. “I’ll call the police and have you arrested.”
Morse shrugged, nonplussed by the posturing. “You could. It would be stupid since you know nothing about me, but you could.”
Dad hesitated.
“On the other hand, I have learned all sorts of fascinating facts about you,” Morse continued. “The deals you’ve made to keep your administrative position at the hospital. Evidence you buried about the Horst case. Email addresses of board members who might be interested in the details.”
Holy shit.
I had no idea what Morse was talking about, but judging by the color draining from my father’s face as he collapsed back onto the sofa, he did. I gaped at Morse, both alarmed and turned on by the malice in his eyes.
“You see, Mr. Hutchensen, information is what I deal in. I’m not someone you can bully or frighten away. I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you have to say to your daughter, you can say in front of me.”
“He’s a little young for you, don’t you think?” Mom asked.
I’d been expecting the blow, but it made me shake my head all the same. “Are you judging my relationship?”
“You have to admit it is cause for concern.”
Morse looked like he wanted to strangle her.
I leaned forward, trying to cut off his view. “Maybe we should get to why you were so insistent that I visit.”
Dad cleared his throat and dove right in. “Now that the children will both be here, we believe it would be appropriate for you to move home.”
They’d been bugging me to move back since Ted’s death. Since I was their only child, they seemed to think it was their obligation to critique my every move, which would be easier to do if I lived closer.
“My job is in Seattle.”
Mom shifted, casting a can-you-believe-this glance at Dad. “There are military widows everywhere, dear. We have more than our fair share here in Boise. Surely your little non-profit doesn’t have to remain in Seattle.”
The way she dismissed what I’d worked so hard to build was nothing new. It shouldn’t still hurt, but it did.
“I like Seattle. I’ve built a home there.”
“What about your children?” Mom asked. “While Theodore is quite capable of surviving without you, you’re missing out on his games. I thought supporting your children was important to you.”
I tried not to wince, but she knew exactly where to stab to do the most damage.
“And what about Morgan?” The gleam in Mom’s eyes informed me she was about to turn the knife. “Since she’s not as functional as her brother, she needs you nearby. In fact, we insist on it to protect our investment in her education.”
“You’re blackmailing me into moving back.”
“No,” Dad said. “We’re laying out the terms of our offer.”
“College is expensive,” Mom added.
“I know,” I said.
“Our offer to pay for it is very generous.”
“I know. Thank you.”
They were right. Morgan would have a better chance of success if I was nearby. However, that would mean leaving all the widows Black Lace Rations was helping. Thia would never move to Idaho, and Morse… it would mean the end of this thing between us before we’ve even had time to explore it.
Steam rolled off Morse. Smoke came out of his ears. “And if she doesn’t agree?”
“She’s a decent mother,” Mom said confidently. “She’ll agree.”
Morse sucked in a deep breath, but before he could reply, his phone buzzed. He tugged it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his entire body went rigid.
Fearing for Morgan’s safety or another increase to the bounty on my head, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Carol. She’s been taken to the hospital.”