Chapter 12
Rooster
I don't know how to feel as I sit behind my computer desk.
I should probably turn the audio off, but I just can't seem to reach for it.
I don't know if Twisted forgot that Cerberus has access to their phone or that we record them twenty-four-seven in an effort to keep them safe, but it gives me access to the interaction he just had with Morgan.
I feel dirty for even listening, but I wanted to be there with her in some way since I can't be there in person.
"What the fuck did I do to deserve that rejection?" he mutters as he walks away.
I scrunch my nose, grateful the guy didn't make a big deal about it in front of her, but the sadness in Twisted's voice is a side of him I've never witnessed before.
He's always been larger-than-life, bordering on a giant asshole. It was almost easy to forget he had feelings at all other than anger and irritation.
I could easily question why he cares so much, but I think I'm also starting to fall into Morgan's trap, and we haven't done much other than have a few conversations and play several horrible games of darts.
Thinking of it as a trap doesn't seem right, but I don't know what else to call it. The woman has a charisma that I even felt when she was screaming and thinking I was the guy who hurt Kaylee.
When she pressed her palm over my heart where my old tattoo was, it was like something locked in place. As much as I wanted to think it was some sort of animal magnetism that affected nothing more than my dick, I know better now.
I still have the affliction with my physical attraction, which felt nearly impossible to keep under control last night while playing darts, but there's some sort of innate need to protect her.
I feel giddy when my system buzzes, notifying me that the front gate is being accessed by the code specific to Whiskey. Instead of waiting in the conference room to see her appear on camera, I rush from the room and run to the kitchen.
"Is there a fire I don't know about?" Heathen asks.
"What? No, I'm just getting a bottle of water," I say as I slow to a walk.
I was hoping to look nonchalant when she entered the house because the floor plan allowed those in the kitchen to see the front door, but I failed by not considering that there were still other people in the house.
"Yeah, okay," he says with disbelief in his tone.
"Seriously—"
My second run of excuses fades away when the front door opens.
Twisted is mere feet behind Morgan, but he doesn't hesitate to leave the room, taking the stairs two at a time to disappear. I have no doubt he's going to hide out and lick his wounds for a while.
"How did it go?" Bandera asks as he appears from the opposite side of the house.
"Fine," Whiskey says as he lifts the suitcases by the handles. "Morgan, want me to put these in your room?"
"I can—"
Instead of letting her answer, he just grunts and heads toward the stairs. "I'll leave them right outside your door."
"Thank you," she says, looking a little lost.
I watch as her eyes dart toward the conference room, which sends a thrill right up my spine with the idea that she might be looking for me.
"I was about to make some Hot Pockets," I say from the kitchen, drawing her attention in my direction. "Want some?"
"Smooth," Heathen mutters with a laugh before walking away. He stops in front of Morgan. "You good? I'll let Kaylee know you're back."
"Okay," she says.
"Give her about an hour," he says, looking down at the bowl of strawberries and a bottle of champagne in his hands. "Maybe two hours."
Her smile is wide as she watches him walk away, also taking the stairs two at a time like Twisted did, but for an entirely different reason.
"Wonder what they're going to be doing," she says under her breath as she crosses the room in my direction.
"I'll get with you later to coordinate your travel to work tomorrow," Bandera says before disappearing, leaving the two of us alone in the kitchen.
"Did you get enough clothes?" I ask as she steps up to the counter opposite of me.
"Probably not, but I just couldn't stand to be there any longer." She lifts her body, taking a seat on one of the breakfast barstools. "Do you think Henry put up hidden cameras in my house?"
"It's possible," I answer honestly, hating the way the goosebumps runs down her arms. "He's quick to use any sort of technology to further his plans."
"And we still don't know what his plans are?"
I shake my head. "Other than to get on my nerves? I don't know."
"How many of those are you going to eat?" she asks, making me look down and notice I've unwrapped four Hot Pockets from the multi-count box.
"Shit," I mutter before looking up. "Sorry."
"Do you think I'm some innocent woman who would get offended with a cuss word?"
"Just trying to be respectful," I say, pointing down at the opened food. "Want some?"
Her nose scrunches.
"It's just cheese and pepperoni."
"Is it real cheese?"
I grab the box and look at the ingredient list before shrugging. "No clue."
Her laughter swarms around me much the same way it did last night, and it has no less of an effect than it did twelve hours ago.
"I've never had one," she confesses.
"How is that even possible? You went to the University of Las Vegas. It's a college student's rite of passage to eat all sorts of microwavable foods."
I freeze when her right eyebrow lifts, and I know it's because I just slipped, disclosing that I know more information about her than she has told me herself.
"Your research didn't tell you about my meal plan?"
I roll my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling when she grins at me. I don't even know how to act right now. She could easily be mad about what I know about her, but I'm not getting that vibe.
"I do know about your meal plan," I confess, watching her face to gauge her response, but she simply smiles wider and shakes her head. "How does someone eat so much salad?"
Her mouth drops open. "What else do you know about me?"
"I wonder why, after losing and having to replace the copy of Jane Eyre you borrowed from the library twice, you didn't buy your own copy. It would've prevented you from having to purchase it the third time after losing it once again."
Her cheeks flame pink. "Are you kidding me? You know about that?"
"I do," I admit.
"Did your research indicate that I had a massive crush on the librarian's nephew, who stayed with her during the summer and helped at our local library?"
"Bryant Hi—"
"Hilt," she says at the same time. "You realize how creepy that is?"
"Thorough," I counter, glad that she's still smiling.
"What else do you know?"
I swallow as I watch her face. "It's my job to research."
"What else do you know?" she repeats, but her tone doesn't make me think she's growing angry.
"You need to change the oil in your car."
Her head tilts slightly. "How do you have access to that?"
"There's an app on your phone."
"You went through my phone?"
I watch as she pats her pocket, a look of relief coming over her face to find that it's where she left it.
"I don't have to have your phone to access it," I confess.
"That's—"
"Thorough," I interject. "We needed to know what was going on with Henry."
"Wait," she says, holding a hand up, her eyes fluttering closed. "You went through my messages with Henry?"
"I needed to know if he left me clues."
"Left you clues."
"Correct," I say, wondering why I just couldn't keep my mouth closed, but lies of omission are still lies, aren't they? I didn't do these things to violate her in any way, although that may still be the outcome. "Henry put you in my path on purpose. Everything he did was calculated and part of his plan to get to me."
"I feel—"
"Violated?" I ask. "I'm sorry he did that to you."
"I sent him nudes," she says when her eyes open.
"You did. I scrolled past them quickly and blurred them before the other guys saw the messages."
"You shared the messages?"
"We're a team," I say quickly. "They didn't see the photos."
"Because they were blurred."
"Right."
"So they know I sent naked photos."
"You're an adult, Morgan. There isn't a soul here that's going to judge you for sending photos to someone you had a sexual relationship with."
Her eyes narrow. "You didn't spend any time looking at them?"
I shake my head. "Of course not. I do a lot of research, but I'd never violate your privacy that way."
"I feel like you're telling me the truth," she says.
"I assure you that I am."
"I don't think I'd have the power not to look."
"What do you mean?" I ask, finally reaching for a plate to put my food on so I can put it into the microwave.
"If the tables were turned," she hedges. "I don't know that I could keep myself from at least a little glance, especially after seeing you without your shirt."
I huff a laugh as I grab the plate cover from the cabinet and put it over the food before popping it into the microwave. After hitting the required buttons, I give her my full attention once again.
"You're going to eat all four of those?"
"I'm going to make you eat one," I say. "Don't change the subject on me now."
A slow smile spreads across her face, and I feel so much relief that she isn't livid with me. I know she has every right to feel violated by the research I've done. I couldn't expect anyone to be completely okay with their privacy being invaded and that was what I've done with all her information.
"I figured with how hard you're blushing right now, you wouldn't want to hear it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, but I can't seem to pull the smile from my face.
"You're incredibly fit," she says, her eyes dropping to the front of my body. Even though I'm fully clothed, I still feel like she can see things that aren't exposed.
I run my hand down the front of my body, my cock threatening to stand up and take notice when her eyes follow the path of my hand.
I step forward, pressing my lower half to the cabinets, doing my best to hide my reaction.
The microwave beeps, forcing me to step to the side and pull the food out to avoid any other suspicion.
"I bet you could cut your time in the gym in half if you didn't eat stuff like that," she says, her tone void of judgment as I place the plate between us, pull off the cardboard sleeves, and carry them to the trash.
"So what you're saying is if you eat one, you'll join me in the gym later to work it off?"
Her eyes trace my body once again before they lift to mine.
"That's one way to burn the calories off."