Chapter 20
Rooster
I'm aware of every movement she makes.
If she shifts in her chair, I sense it. If her hands reposition on her lap, I'm cognizant of it.
I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that sex with her would be explosive. Just seeing her pulse throb at the base of her throat does things to my body. Her hands on me, even with as limited as that has been, set me on fire clear to the core of my body.
The idea of my mouth on hers, my tongue trailing her skin, the taste of her pussy on my tongue makes it nearly impossible not to close the distance between us, lay her out on the conference room table, and bury my head between her legs.
I have a lot of control, but I don't know that I could resist her, short of staying here, locked in place behind my computer, or getting up and walking away like I did the other night.
If she stood up and walked toward me, my hands would be on her hips the second she was within reach. I'm so grateful she may be considering taking things slow and us getting to know each other better rather than pushing the issue because I'd fold like a wet paperback if she pushed even a little bit.
"But that's like five steps," she says, her eyes locked on my little farm on the television.
"Six," I clarify. "If you count having to change the wheat into flour."
"That seems excessive," she mutters, but there's a smile on her face.
"It has to be done in real-life food manufacturing," I remind her. "Bread doesn't just grow in a field."
"I know that. How often do you play this instead of working?"
I grin as I click a few more buttons, the television that she can see flashing with all the programs I have running in the background. "I'm working. This is what I do so I don't do something I could get into trouble for because I'm bored."
"So you know how to break the law using your computer, but you just don't?"
"Right," I tell her, not really going into detail about the fine line I have to walk and how sometimes I might dip my toe on the other side, but always because it's an emergency and usually life or death.
"That has to be hard."
"Some days are harder than others," I confess. "But there has to be a line because it's the only thing that keeps me one of the good guys rather than one of the bad guys. It's like anything else that could cause problems in your life. Maybe a little peek at something you aren't supposed to look at is fine, but the next day, you go a little deeper until the Feds are banging on your door."
She scrunches her nose. "I feel like that may have happened to you before."
"More than once," I confess. "Henry was always up to something."
"Is there anything he ever did that was good?"
I swallow as I think about my brother. Even after all that he’s done, I can't say that I hate him. I don't know if I'm even capable of that. I know our parents washed their hands of him long ago because of the repeated bouts of trouble he got into, which put a rift between them and me. I just can't understand turning your back on your child no matter what they did. You can still love someone and not be happy with how they've chosen to live their lives.
"He never blamed me for what he did," I tell her. "He never set me up to go down for something he was responsible for. Not even after I reported him when we were teens. He'd do stuff to make me mad, but when the authorities came knocking, he always shouldered the blame."
"He loves you," she whispers.
"In his own way, I guess."
"Morgan?"
We both look toward the conference room door at the sound of her name being called, and I'm out of my seat, walking toward her before she can fully stand.
"It was nice spending time with you," I tell her. "Maybe we'll see each other again this evening?"
Her eyes find mine, and I swear, even with everything we've talked about, she seems a little shy right now.
I reach down, taking her hand in mine, watching her watch me as I lift it to my mouth. I press my lips to her palm, and from her sharp intake of breath, you'd think I put my lips somewhere else entirely.
"See you soon, Morgan," I tell her as I release her hand and take a step back.
She blinks up at me. As much as I love the attention, it tells me that she probably hasn't had men put in but the most minimal effort to date her. By her own accounts, she has been involved more in casual sex than anything else, and we both know that I'm not even the slightest bit interested in something like that.
If my lips on her palm cause such a reaction, I can't wait to see where else I can touch and press my lips that will make her squirm.
"O-okay," she whispers, but her feet seem locked in place as she watches me.
"Morgan?"
I lift my eyes to the door, finding Kaylee standing there watching us.
We aren't doing anything outwardly unacceptable, but it makes me wonder what thoughts Morgan had running through her head for her to spin around and rush toward her friend.
There's still a grin on my face a minute later when Heathen enters the conference room.
"You look like the cat who ate the canary," he says, but he has a wide smile on his face as well.
It seems that marriage and waking up with his wife in his bed every morning suits him.
"So do you," I say as I sit back at my desk.
"Believe me," he says. "No canary eating in my life. I have different preferences."
"Are you here because you actually need something, or are you bored and just want to bother me?"
The man presses a hand to his chest, a look of mock shock on his face.
"That hurts my feelings."
I shake my head and chuckle. "You're ridiculous."
"I actually do need you to run a quick check on these license plates, and I have a couple of addresses I need info on," he says, walking closer and handing me a folded piece of paper.
"This is for that escort service?" I ask as I unfold the paper.
"Yeah. I'm trying to establish how long some of these players have been in town."
"You want a printout of all this?"
"That'd be great," he says, but instead of leaving and letting me work, he pulls out a chair and sits.
"You want this right now?" I ask, knowing that everyone thinks everything is an emergency and that I should do it right now, but we also have to pace ourselves.
Doing that was something that Kincaid harped on when we were still learning the ropes in New Mexico. We can't always be going a hundred miles an hour. We have to pace ourselves or risk getting burned out. Burnout means we'll miss something, and with what we do, it could be a life-or-death situation for someone.
"What else do you have to do?" he asks, and I can tell it's a genuine question. He's not just trying to be an asshole.
I can think of a hundred things I could be doing with Morgan and my mouth alone, actually, but I don't say that out loud. I can't monopolize her time, no matter how much I'd like to drag her to my room, sit her down on my bed, and tell her my entire life story with the hope that she'd do the same and share with me everything that has ever happened in her life. I know a lot of stuff from my research, but there's also so much I don't know that I'd love to learn from her lips alone.
Jesus, I haven't even kissed the woman, and I feel a little obsessed. I don't usually invest so much emotionally into anyone because things never seem to work out for me.
I key in some of the information. What Heathen is asking for is pretty basic stuff, but there's always a trail to follow. Finding out who owns a house is simple. Following the trail off of that is the fun part.
What form of payment did they use? Was it a card or line of credit? Is one bank account linked to another bank account?
What else have they purchased with that form of payment?
Following financial trails will disclose a lot of habits about someone.
Following the trail off a vehicle purchase is just as revealing, and it would take some very drastic steps in order to prevent someone like me from finding out nearly everything about a person based on one single purchase.
I work through the list, adding all the information to a new document to print out for him and flagging things I think I should revisit. I'm a very thorough researcher, and I want the guys on my team to have any and all information that I can find. I'd rather give each of them way too much than not give them enough. They can decide what they need and don't need. Sometimes, the information I provide doesn't mean much to me but means something to them, so I do my best not to leave anything out.
"So, what's going on with you and Morgan?"
I keep my hands moving over the keyboard, eyes locked on the screen as information flashes in front of me.
"What do you mean?"
He's silent, but I'm not new to this game. These guys think they can approach me the same way they would a mark, and I've been doing this too long to give in.
He chuckles when I refuse to look in his direction.
"The two of you are spending a lot of time together."
"Maybe she's bored," I offer, eyes still glued to my system. "Her friend is always locked away in her bedroom."
"Touché," he says with humor in his tone.
"Is there a line?"
I glance toward the door. Whiskey walks into the room, and he also has a piece of paper in his hand.
"No line," I say, holding out my hand so I can take his list. "I can do both at the same time."
Whiskey pulls back his list a second before I can grab it.
"I don't want mixed-up information," he mutters. "I can wait."
"Rooster doesn't mix shit up," Heathen says, coming to my defense.
Whiskey looks back at his teammate, but after a beat of silence, he offers me the list.
He takes a seat across the table from Heathen, and I know he's staying to supervise me. I don't let it bother me. The other guys had months back in New Mexico to get used to me being their IT go-to guy. Whiskey, being new, still needs to build his confidence in me, and I'm okay with it.
I open his list, noticing how different it is from Heathen's. This new list is meticulous, and there isn't one scratched-through line or error. Heathen's is a jumbled mess of letters and numbers, and I have to smile at the differences between the two.
"So, what's up with you and that Morgan chick?" Whiskey asks, glaring at Heathen when the man bursts out with loud laughter. "Inside joke or something?"
His tone is filled with annoyance.
"No inside joke," I offer. "Heathen is a man-child."
The laughter dies down, but not any sooner than Heathen wants it to. "I just asked him the same thing is all."
"There's nothing going on," I offer as I continue to work.
"You were bricked up when you got out of the hot tub the other night," Heathen says, and I turn my eyes to glare at him.
"There's nothing going on, and you were getting hard around her?" Whiskey asks, a look of disgust on his face. "That's kind of fucking pervy, don't you think?"
"He's not a pervert," Heathen declares.
"You're the one who just disclosed the way my body reacts to her. Don't defend me in the next breath," I grumble before turning my attention back to Whiskey. "We're talking, I guess. I find her very attractive."
"She's hot as hell," Whiskey adds without hesitation.
I should probably warn him off, but I don't own any part of Morgan. She's a free agent and can do whatever she pleases. I'm not setting her up to see if she'd go after the guy, but if she can't stay focused on one guy at a time, then I think that may be something I should know.
"Easy," Heathen says, coming to the defense of his wife's best friend. "She's not a toy."
Whiskey watches the man as if assessing why he'd even care, and it makes me wonder if a fight is going to break out. Whiskey has been the only one not fully on board with the effort we’re putting into keeping Morgan safe. I know that if he doesn't come around to the idea fully, it's bound to cause some problems within the group.
"I don't have time for games," he says, his tone even despite his choice of words. "Plus, I don't shit where I eat."
Well, that's a graphic way to describe it. At the same time, it also makes me think about what I'm doing, leaving me wondering if it's the best idea. Twisted was, at a minimum, attracted to Morgan, and starting something with her to see where it would go might also cause friction in the group.
"Anything going on this weekend?" Heathen asks instead of engaging Whiskey any further.
"Kincaid, a couple of the guys, and their spouses are coming in later this afternoon," I say as I turn my attention back to my system.
The sooner I get through these lists, the sooner I can go find Morgan.
Despite knowing I should really think about taking things further with her, I also know there's no resisting the woman. I'm not the type of man to waste energy.