16. Morgan
MORGAN
I’m in one of the upstairs rooms with Mal and Nico when there’s a harsh knock on the door.
We all tense.
There’s a beat of silence and then another two knocks follow.
Mal relaxes, so I do too.
He opens the door to a harried looking Flint who looks straight at me.
“They want to see you downstairs,” he says as he comes in and closes the door behind him.
I already know that all the bedrooms up here are soundproofed, so I don’t bother to lower my voice. “What the fuck for?”
“To find out what you know. To make sure we’re not forcing you to do anything.” He holds out his hands. “I don’t know. Hunters are dicks.” He glances at Mal. “And that guy downstairs is extra fucking special.”
Mal frowns as he looks at me, then Flint. “We watched them from the window. Did it seem to you like he recognised Morgan?”
“When he got out of the car?”
Mal nods.
“Yeah, maybe. Hid it pretty fucking quickly, though.”
They both turn to look at me.
“What?”
“Any chance you’ve seen him before?” Mal asks.
I shake my head. “No.” But is that true? “I mean, I work in a shop. I guess it’s possible they’ve come in and I didn’t notice them. Customers all look the same to me after a while.” Although something makes me think I’d remember them.
“Maybe that’s it,” Flint says, but neither he nor Mal look convinced.
“You okay?” Flint directs this to Nico who hasn’t moved from the chair by the wall. He’s got one knee drawn up and hasn’t really spoken since I got here.
Nico glances at Mal, a panicked look on his face.
“It’s okay,” Mal soothes, walking over to him.
Flint frowns, watching them, and I suddenly feel like we’re missing something.
“You can tell him,” Nico says eventually. Then turns back to the window.
Mal sighs. “Nico thinks he saw one of the hunters at the fight rings.”
“Fucking hell,” Flint spits, both hands fisting his hair.
I’m not entirely sure of the significance of Nico’s declaration, but judging by the look on Mal and Flint’s faces, it’s nothing good.
“How sure is he?” Flint asks Mal, like Nico isn’t in the room. But to be fair, his body might be, but I don’t think his head is.
Mal grimaces. “Not a hundred percent.” He glances back at Nico and snarls. “But I believe him.”
I do too, for what it’s worth. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. And from what he told me about his time in the fight rings, it probably feels like that.
Flint groans. “We can’t tell Lynx yet. He’ll fucking kill them.”
“I know,” Mal says, looking like he’d gladly help. “You can’t let them come up here. They can’t see him or Tyler. If Nico’s right...” He shakes his head, and even I don’t need it spelled out for me.
“Shit.” Flint tugs at his hair, panic written all over him. “We need to get back down there,” he says, glancing at me. “We’ve been gone long enough as it is.”
No part of me wants to walk down those stairs, but I don’t want them to come up here either. Nico looks like he might fall apart any second as it is. I push down the panic threatening to overwhelm me and straighten the leather cut Jet gave me.
Flint smirks, and oddly enough that gives me enough confidence to get the words out. “Let’s go, then.”
With a nod, Flint reaches for the door then pauses. “You know what to say?”
“Pretty much everything I told you lot when I first came here wanting to join.”
“Yeah. Right up until you decided to have a sleepover in the forest.”
I shudder at the memory, and he winces.
“Too soon?”
“Way too fucking soon.” I glare but he just laughs and opens the door. His amusement dies as soon as we hit the stairs. “Don’t let them intimidate you,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”
Famous last words.
Any calm I’d achieved on the walk down here vanishes in a puff of smoke the second I step into the room.
There are five hunters in there, along with Jet, Callum, and Lynx.
I know I’m supposed to be the lowest of the low as far as the club’s concerned, so instead of going to stand by Lynx like I really want to, I stay close to Flint.
Three of the hunters perch on the table, while the other two hug the back wall. Flint leads me over to stand beside Jet, and I try to regulate my breathing.
Stick to the story and you’ll be fine .
They’re humans, I remind myself. Just like me.
Except, not gonna lie, they still scare the shit out of me. Especially the one who’s looking at me with serial-killer eyes. That’s the first thing that pops into my head when he smiles at me like that.
Evan Fox.
That’s what he said his name was.
I wonder if that’s who Nico thought he recognised. Fuck, maybe best not to think about that right now.
“You can all leave us if you want,” Fox tells Lynx. “We can take it from here.”
Lynx deadeyes him. “Don’t fucking think so.”
Thank god.
Fox shrugs like he expected as much, then focuses on me. “Why don’t you take a seat, Morgan.”
Great they already made introductions. I wonder what else they told them about me.
I’m about to do as I’m told when Flint’s words come back to me.
“No,” I say, meeting Fox’s gaze and straightening my shoulders.
“I think I’ll stay where I am. Ask your fucking questions so we can all get on with our day.
” Overkill? I’m starting to think so until I catch Lynx’s smirk out of the corner of my eye.
Even though I’m still pissed off with him, there’s no denying the warmth that smirk sparks in my belly.
Fox’s eyes narrow as he stares at me for what feels like forever, then he shrugs.
“Fine. I’m Detective Evan Fox and these are my associates.
” He gestures to the two guys beside him, and I work hard to school my reaction.
I guess hunter isn’t something you can share with humans. “We have a few questions for you.”
“About what?” If he’s going to play the police card, then he’s got to expect some push back.
He smiles, but his eyes remain cold. It’s unnerving to say the least. “There’s been a few break-ins reported. Vandalism, too. Eyewitnesses mentioned hearing multiple motorbikes, so this is just information gathering.”
“I assume you’ll be going to talk to the Feral Beasts too then?”
He grins. “Of course.”
I don’t know if all that’s a load of bollocks or not, but I don’t suppose it matters either. I can’t do anything to draw attention to the fact I know who they are. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” He gives me another smile that’s just as creepy as the one before. “What made you want to join the Wild Wolves motorcycle club?”
I take a deep steadying breath and tell him everything that happened to bring me here. That I had to move out, not why we lost our house. I don’t look at him as I speak. I don’t look at anyone. I focus on my hands as if they’re the most interesting things I’ve ever seen.
Fox asks me follow up questions.
Who did we sell our house to?
Have I been back there since?
Where did my dad move to?
What have I done since I arrived at the club?
What have I seen?
I give him what I hope are bland but acceptable enough answers. There’s no way to tell, though, because Fox’s expression barely changes. He watches me with a mix of amusement and menace. It’s an unsettling combination.
After I’m done speaking, Fox sits back and crosses his arms. His gaze bores into me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my skin crawl. Lynx and the others might be shifters, but my gut’s telling me that somehow Fox and the others are the monsters here.
“We done?” Lynx asks, voice cold.
I don’t hold my breath, but it’s a close thing.
“For now.” Fox straightens and the two beside him do the same. “Don’t go anywhere.” He gives me a slow, thorough once-over, gaze lingering low on my throat.
Where the faint scars are from when the Feral Beasts bit me.
I barely resist covering them with my hand.
“I suspect we’ll be revisiting this conversation soon,” Fox adds, then faces Lynx.
“I think you know it’s in your best interests not to add any more.
.. prospects to your club.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, dismissing Lynx and the others like they couldn’t tear his fucking face off if they wanted to.
Judging by their expressions, that’s the exact thought running through their minds right now.
As Fox passes me, he reaches out and grips my shoulder, fingers splaying wide, so the tips scrape the bottom of my neck.
“See you soon, Morgan Webb,” he whispers.
And then he’s gone.
The growl Lynx lets out is so low it seeps into my bones, and when I look up, it’s taking both Cal and Jet to hold him in place.
The two hunters who were leant against the back wall go to leave, but one of them stops. His gaze flicks to Jet, before landing on Lynx. “Sorry about him,” he says quietly, then disappears out the door.
“I’ll make sure they leave,” Flint says and follows.
“Have someone tail them,” Cal calls after him, and Flint’s “On it” filters back into the room.
Now I sit down.
“You good?” Cal grunts at Lynx, still gripping his arm and shoulder. “I don’t want Flint out there by himself.”
I watch as Lynx closes his eyes, nostrils flaring as he breathes in deep, but it does nothing to drain the tension from his body. “I can still fucking smell them.”
Oh . Of course.
“I need to get out of here,” he grits out, finally opening his eyes and looking straight at me with such naked longing, heat rushes up my neck to my cheeks.
“Open the fucking window,” Cal hisses at Jet. “It’s fine. I’ve got him,” he adds when Jet doesn’t move.
Reluctantly Jet marches over to the only window in the room and shoves it open. Fresh air rushes in, blessedly cool on my face, and even Lynx relaxes enough that Cal lets go of him.
“Come on,” he says to Jet, and the two of them hurry outside presumably to check on Flint and make sure the hunters have gone.
The air in the room is still thick with tension, despite the breeze flowing through it now.
Lynx takes a step towards me.
His gaze drops to the leather cut I’m still wearing.
Shit.