12. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Part Two
T he office was a manic bullpen. Every day, without fail, Morgan had to listen to the same drone of useless conversation and clicking heels. And Lex’s obnoxiously cheery tone carried over it all, like nails on a chalkboard .
Poor, pathetic, pretty Lex. Always the victim in his own tragic story.
Always looking for someone else to take the blame.
Somewhere out there, Lex was likely drowning under the work Morgan had dumped onto him. Deliberately overwhelming, enough to break three or four competent employees. It was an impossible task, but it served its purpose: keeping him busy enough to remember why he was at work. Instead of indulging in distractions.
Like Wendy .
A bimbo whose only value was when she went under the knife for cosmetic surgery. Wendy had gotten the job because of nepotism. Steve’s genes spit out something, and the company hired it. That thing, however, made most of the men stop functioning.
The effect wasn’t lost on Lex.
Morgan let his head hang back, pressing the tips of his fingers into his eyes.
It was annoying, truly, how easily Lex could twist him into knots without trying.
But it was Morgan’s fault. He’d let it happen.
Lex had lingered too close, too often, for eight years, and Morgan hadn’t started chastising him until too late.
Don’t get distracted.
Don’t waste time.
Don’t embarrass me.
Don’t test me.
Lex had ignored all of it. He always had. An adult with the mindset of a reckless child, determined to put his hand on the stove to see how hot it was .
Morgan let out a slow breath, dragging his fingers down his face. Sitting here wasn’t solving anything. Neither was dwelling on it. And while he’d been taking out his frustration elsewhere, that was no longer a viable option.
Those people weren’t satisfying him anymore.
Heading across the floor to Lex’s office, Morgan expected the best.
After a week of deafening silence, Lex had been reduced to pure desperation, practically salivating whenever Morgan so much as breathed in his direction. A little conversation now would feel like a reward. It was also what Morgan needed.
No one could say he wasn’t being nice.
The blinds on the windows were drawn, slats tilted shut, and that was the first indication that perhaps Morgan had been too nice. Too generous. The corner of his mouth dipped as he opened the door.
He didn’t even need to take a step inside.
More than half of Wendy’s clothes were on the floor, Lex’s hand between her legs.
Classy.
Morgan leaned against the frame, coffee in hand, and waited. The slow, quiet burn of irritation hadn’t started quite yet. He wanted to see how long it would take for either of them to notice.
It wasn’t Wendy who did.
Lex’s eyes—too blue, too large—locked onto his. Morgan watched the shock ripple across his face, vividly red against the tan, but what struck him the most wasn’t that Lex had been caught .
It was that Lex didn’t stop despite being caught.
He didn’t move his hand. He didn’t push Wendy away. And he didn’t take his eyes off Morgan.
Predictable.
Disappointing as well but… predictable.
Wendy glanced over her shoulder and—there it was: the actual, correct response. She gasped, face paling, arms scrambling to cover herself as she fumbled for her clothes. The blouse went on, unbuttoned, and then she bolted past, stammering out apologies so frantic they didn’t register as words.
Morgan didn’t bother acknowledging her.
His focus remained fixed on Lex, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Not a twitch, not a word.
There should have been something—an excuse, even a half-assed attempt at defiance.
Ah . So that’s how Lex wanted to play it.
Morgan turned and shut the door behind him.
If he wanted to be difficult, Morgan would be happy to oblige. He’d show him exactly what not being nice looked like.
“Are you leaving early, Mr. Delacroix?”
The receptionist’s voice barely registered. Morgan paused mid-step, slipping into the persona he wore for interactions like this. Polite. Poised. Perfect.
“Yes. Forward my calls to Jonathon, would you?”
“Of course. Do you have plans for the weekend? ”
“Actually, I do.” He adjusted his cuffs, keeping the smile in check. “Thank you for asking. I’m… very excited about going out of town. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
“That’s good to hear.”
She kept going. Words mashed into something less than incoherent, grating at his patience. He forced himself to nod at intervals, pretending he cared about what thing she had planned. Her name escaped him completely, but maybe if he could throw in some niceties alongside it, she’d shut up.
Still, she’d served her purpose. A little alibi, wrapped up in mundane office talk.
Efficient? No.
Inside the elevator, Morgan pulled out his phone. His finger skimmed over the screen until he found the file he’d pulled from Lex. The image itself was black, but the audio …
Lex’s voice filled the earbud, cracking, laced with enough pain and surrender that the back of his skull tingled. Morgan leaned against the wall, soaking in the sound.
Videos were so much better than pictures. At least his little brother had gotten one thing right in his life.
The elevator dinged, and Morgan’s jaw ticked. The best moments never lasted long enough, did they?
His own car wasn’t his first stop. That could wait. Palming his keyring, Morgan thumbed through until he found the one he needed: Lex’s spare. Or rather, his spare copy of Lex’s. If Lex hadn’t wanted Morgan to have it, he shouldn’t have been so careless—leaving it out on the kitchen table was idiotic .
Morgan popped the trunk, already bracing himself, but it was worse. Clothes in a chaotic heap, blankets crumpled like they’d been dragged from a dumpster, and an old laptop buried beneath it all that promised secrets. He made a mental note to retrieve that later. For now, though, all he grabbed was a hoodie and slammed it shut.
Over to his own car, his hand hovered over the back handle when he heard Lex’s voice. Raw, pushed beyond desperation. It crawled under his skin.
“Morgan— Morgan . Wait.”
Morgan didn’t look over. He couldn’t chance it when they were alone, and his restraint was already hanging by a thread. His fingers curled tighter around the keys as he unlocked the backseat.
“One minute,” he said, keeping his hands in sight. “For your sake, whatever coming out of your mouth better be worth it.”
“Holy shit, you speed walk . Why’re you so angry with me? What did I do ?”
“We discussed this. The next time I saw you distracted, you’d regret it.”
Lex shuffled his feet, breathing heavier than normal—probably stuck in some loop of overthinking. Let him. If Lex wanted to waste his time suffering in silence, instead of pleading his case, that was perfectly fine.
“Do you hate me?” Lex asked, quieter.
“Hating you would mean I gave you any thought. Don’t flatter yourself.”
Not entirely true. If anything, Morgan thought about him far too often .
But when he glanced over his shoulder, that little flicker of despair over Lex’s features should have helped calm the anger inside his chest. It always had before.
Now? Now it barely scratched the surface.
Morgan checked his watch. Lex had approximately twenty-five seconds left to save his sanity.
“Would you and Kate want to do a double date with Wendy and me?”
The words couldn’t have registered correctly inside of Morgan’s head. There was no possible way that Lex had tracked him down to ask that.
How stupid was he ?
Rage turned into something hotter, darker, and Morgan licked his lips to keep it from spilling out.
“I’ll think about it,” he said evenly.
Parking garages after dark were always such fascinating things. Even with the well-lit sections and top - of - the - line cameras, there was always one corner overlooked. One thing that could have been a little brighter, a little more safe.
Eight had slipped into nine, then ten.
Lex always worked late, always chasing some impossible notion of approval.
Time didn’t matter, Morgan could wait. He had nothing better to do .
The hoodie and bandana did their job well enough, and Morgan had slicked his hair back into a tight ponytail.
This was a new role to play, after all. One even more dangerous—more thrilling—than the woods.
If this didn’t break Lex into a thousand different pieces of himself that Morgan could finally use ? He doubted much else would.
The business was his ultimate goal—all of it. Not the half that his stingy father had doled out. Selling it to the highest bidder would mean an early retirement, an escape from the monotony of his real life. A chance to devote himself to his true calling.
But shutting Lex up? Quieting that eager, annoying fascination? That was… personal. Not professional.
The clumsy rhythm of Lex’s steps came first, the uneven weight of his still-healing ankle unmistakable.
Morgan forced slow, measured breaths, in and out, keeping his focus on the task at hand.
When Lex finally came down the side—disheveled as always, his tie loose, and his light hair a mess—Morgan waited.
A little longer. Not much.
The motel had taught Morgan one thing: Lex was never aware of his surroundings. Any normal person would have checked their backseat or at least their rearview before getting into their car.
And now? They would make sure no one else was around, especially when it was so late. So dark.
So as Lex dropped his keys, like some careless actor in a bad horror movie, Morgan struck.
His hand clamped over Lex’s mouth, cutting off the noise before it started. The other wrenched Lex’s arm behind his back, hard enough for Morgan to feel the pop of a joint giving way. Lex thrashed, twisting to break free, but Morgan held on tighter. He pressed his lips close to Lex’s ear, masking his voice.
“Stop. Moving.”
Lex stilled for a fraction of a second, but as soon as Morgan let go, a frantic cry for help tore through the silence, echoing throughout the empty garage.
Morgan’s knife was in his hand before Lex could inhale again. He pressed the edge against Lex’s throat, firm enough to draw blood.
“Keep going," he whispered, dropping his pitch even lower, "and I’ll gut you like a fucking pig.”
Morgan felt the shudder course through Lex, the way his breathing shifted, ragged and shallow.
That’s better.
Working quickly, he bound Lex’s wrists behind his back with a zip tie from the hoodie pocket. Ripping Lex’s tie from his neck, he slipped it over his eyes, knotting it tightly at the back of his head. He gave one firm tug, to be sure, and Lex’s head moved with it.
“I… I think you got the wrong guy,” Lex mumbled, his voice shaking, “I don’t—”
The knife had moved in Morgan’s hand before he realized he was doing it, the blade pressing into his palm. He slammed the blunt end of it into the side of Lex’s skull.
The sound was slight. Sickly.
Satisfying.
Lex staggered, leaning against the car, but the scream Morgan wanted never came .
Without a word, Morgan yanked Lex upright, dragging him forward and shoving him toward the waiting trunk. Lex stumbled, and Morgan’s grip tightened as he guided him over. His patience was thinning.
This wasn’t even the fun part yet.
No sooner had Lex's legs hit the bumper than the resistance begin. He ground his heels into the concrete, weight shifting backward as if it might somehow stop what was coming. The pleas started again.
“If you want money, I can get money. Take me to an ATM—”
Morgan didn’t let him finish. The second blow landed harder, and this time, Lex folded. Morgan shoved him in the trunk, ignoring the blood coating the side of Lex’s face, his focus locked instead on the long legs. One hard push, and they fit inside.
“Get some rest,” he said, unable to hide the purr. “You’ve got two days of hell ahead, and then I’ll kill you.”
The trunk shut, and Morgan didn’t move right away. He stood there, catching his breath, waiting—waiting for his heart to steady, waiting for the eventual sobs or screams to come.
He wouldn’t follow through on all of it. Promises had been made.
But listening to the muffled, pitiful cries? Easily the best part of the day.
Lex needed to understand—finally—that crossing him came with consequences.