Melting Point Page 6

  But by the time Reed made it to the elevator and was about to step on, Liam shouted, “Wait!”

  Liam silently cursed as Reed grinned. He could see the smug smile from his desk. He had been sucked into Reed’s schemes again. And all for a woman who would rather punch him than let him help.

  But, he never agreed to help. Not yet, anyway. He would, however, get more information and end this mystery Reed kept dangling in front of him.

  Reed returned and sat in front of Liam again. “I thought you might be interested.” He shifted in the chair, unable to get comfortable. “What possessed you to buy these chairs? They’re horrible.”

  Liam ignored the question and stared at Reed. He wanted to wring information from him, but he also didn’t want to set himself up. If Liam showed too much interest in Morgan’s fate, he might find himself on a plane tomorrow morning, heading to Vegas to share that same fate. He should shut down the conversation now.

  “She’s pretty,” Reed said casually.

  Liam knew exactly who Reed was referring too. Reed was testing him, trying to see if there was a connection he could exploit.

  “What do you want?” Liam asked. “I’m not sticking my neck on the line for anyone, pretty or not.”

  Reed leaned forward, propping his elbows onto the edge of the desk that was cluttered with sparkly paperweights — more parting gifts from his ex. Reed studied Liam for a moment. “Her sisters are pretty too, especially the middle one. What’s her name? Greer?” Reed shrugged as if it didn’t really matter, as if his line of questioning wasn’t weaving a trap. “Walter seems like a nice man. And the employees —”

  “What do you want?” Liam curled his fingers around the arms of his chair.

  “I’m just saying it would be a sad loss if they died.”

  “You said Morgan was the target.”

  “She is. But they won’t stop there. Once her disappearance is noticed, questions will be raised. Investigation. Detectives.” Reed shrugged. “The entire family will be at risk. One well-placed bomb would take care of them and the entire shop.”

  “And raise more questions.”

  “You would think so.” Reed leaned back, stretching his legs out. “One missing woman wouldn’t warrant the need for the FBI. But once you make the crime fit the criteria, the FBI will take over.”

  Liam leaned back and mirrored Reed. Wouldn’t Reed want the FBI to take over? He made it sound as if it would be a bad thing. “Why did you go dark?” When Reed didn’t answer, Liam surmised, “There’s a dirty agent. That’s why you wouldn’t want the FBI’s involvement.”

  Reed let out a slow breath and nodded.

  “How do the Brennans fit in?”

  “Recent activities have been scrubbed.”

  “Whose activities?”

  Reed shook his head. “If I’m going to tell you any more, I have to know you’re on board.”

  “I’m only on board if you tell me everything you know,” Liam stated and then stopped when he realized what he had said. “What the hell am I saying? Only a lunatic would get mixed up in this.”

  Reed smiled. “I’ve called you worse in the past.”

  “No. I’m not helping. I’m not getting involved.”

  “If you don’t help, Morgan will die.”

  “Why can’t you follow Morgan and help her?”

  “Do you see this?” Reed pointed to the thin line on his neck.

  “Yes, I wanted to ask about it.”

  “Next time the cut will be deeper. I can’t be seen following Morgan.”

  “But I can?”

  “My cover was blown the moment I was sold out. No one knows you. You’re a business man from Waterfield, Utah. They won’t touch you.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Ivankovs. You remember them, right? That particular bratva is hard to forget.”

  “Russian mafia.” Liam’s stomach plummeted.

  Morgan was involved with the Russian mafia? No. She seemed too smart to get involved with an organization like that. But the revelation wound a jagged path to his gut. It would explain her secretiveness. No one knew what she did when she disappeared for days at time. And when questioned, she put up roadblocks.

  “How is Morgan involved?” Liam asked.

  “That’s for you to figure out.”

  “I told you I’m not getting involved, especially if it has to do with the Ivankovs.”

  “Morgan’s been marked for a reason. There’s something she knows that they want covered up. The easiest way to keep it covered is by killing her and her family.”

  “And what will you be doing while the Brennans are being wiped out?” Liam tried not to wince as an unwanted image appeared of the deceased Brennan family. This wasn’t his problem. He barely knew them. Still, three honey-haired women appeared in his mind’s eye, dramatically splayed on the ground with blood pouring out of bullet holes.

  “I’ll be tracking the woman who sold me out,” Reed said.

  “Girlfriend?”

  “Partner.”

  “What did you do?” Liam questioned, wondering if there was more to the story, especially since that agent was a woman. Reed was never one to keep his hands to himself. While he’d never press his attentions, there was something about Reed that made most women interested. And then Reed would be Reed and happily trot away to greener pastures, leaving Liam to clean up. He was done cleaning up after Reed.

  “We were partners for five years,” Reed said. “I never suspected anything until the bratva sent a contract killer, courtesy of Sonya.”

  “Sonya?” Liam leaned forward. “Not the same —”

  “The same.”

  Liam leaned back heavily in the chair. Sonya. Her name was a ghost from the past, one he wanted to forget about. She was the first wedge that tore Reed and Liam apart.

  “You slept with her.”

  Reed drummed his fingers on his knee. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then tell me what it was like.”

  “I killed her father.”

  * * *

  With a groan, Morgan sat up and braced herself against the headboard. “What the hell happened?” She cringed at the dry paste that coated her tongue. With only the thought of scouring her mouth, she hurried to the bathroom, fighting the swaying room.

  She remembered the dinner and her sisters. Ugh. She even remembered Liam. And wine. Too much wine. Why was she half dressed? Where were her pants?

  As quickly as Morgan could move, which wasn’t very speedy at all, she brushed her teeth and showered. As she toweled off, she tried to recall what was on her schedule for the day. Morgan vaguely remembered there was something important that she was supposed to do, but it was impossible to put her finger on it.

  After dressing in her normal jeans and long-sleeve, shop-approved wear, she shuffled to the kitchen. Coffee was what she needed, especially if she had to see Liam again. He would badger her about tagging along to Vegas.

  Vegas!

  “Shit!” Morgan whipped around to read the clock. It was quarter to ten. She had fifteen minutes to drive to the airport, which normally took twenty on a good day.

  Bolting back to her bedroom, she shoved necessities into her duffel bag and raced out the door, grabbing her purse and phone on the way out.

  Praying there were no patrol cars on her route, Morgan sped to the airport. If she didn’t make the flight there was no telling what would happen.

  Actually, she knew exactly what would happen. The bratva had threatened her so many times, it was now imprinted into her brain.

  Panicked, she called Remy to see if he could stall the plane for a few minutes. Unfortunately, the call went straight to voicemail. Morgan left a message anyway, giving a short explanation.

  As she kept an eye on both the road and the clock, she realized she would never make it in time, even while speeding. Her only hope was that the airport would have a delay. But judging from the cloudless skies and the fact that it was a smaller airport with no pass
enger aircrafts, her hopes were quickly smothered.

  Should she call her contact and plead with him? No, that never worked and only managed to anger him. The always-present feral gleam in Dmitri’s eyes made her nervous, even from hundreds of miles away. Morgan jammed her foot onto the accelerator, doubling her speed.

  * * *

  Liam glanced at his watch. He had already held the plane once; he wasn’t sure he would be able to do so again. Where was Morgan? She must have overslept, and he kicked himself for not driving past her place first to pick her up — not that she would have allowed him anywhere near the plane. She would have fought him at every turn, which was why he drove straight to the airport.

  With Remy’s instructions, it was easy enough to find the cargo plane and the surly pilot, who was now grumbling about flight plans and delays. If Morgan didn’t show up soon, Liam would have to disembark and allow the pilot to go.

  A dark-gray sedan flew up the drive and screeched to a halt at the security booth.

  “She’s here,” Liam said to the pilot.

  “It’s about damn time.” The pilot radioed to the tower and proceeded with the flight check while Morgan parked, yanked a duffel bag from the passenger seat, and ran to the plane.

  Liam relaxed against the faded leather seat that was held together by packing tape and put on the headphones that were hanging on a hook. Like the seats, the headphones had seen better days. But his reasons for wanting to wear them, even though they were clearly dirty, were, one, to hear exactly what was happening over the radio and to speak with the pilot as needed. And, two, to avoid talking to Morgan, who had just spotted him as she raced across the tarmac.

  From the way she glared at him, she’d no doubt have plenty of angry words and demands that he remove himself from the plane.

  As soon as she boarded, her low, threatening voice reverberated along the sensitive skin on his neck, seeping through the cracked headphones. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you, you’re not coming.”

  “You better sit down,” Liam said. “The pilot has been waiting on you and is eager to take off. We’ve been cleared to enter the runway.”

  “Shut the damn door!” the pilot shouted.

  Morgan grudgingly turned to close the door and lock it. She sat behind Liam and, while Liam couldn’t see her, he could definitely feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull.

  Thanks to Reed, Liam now understood Morgan’s need to keep her activities private, but that didn’t mean she could continue. From what Reed had told him, she was in desperate need of help, whether or not she chose to acknowledge that. And even though Reed had filled him in, there were many more questions that only Morgan could answer.

  Reed had warned him to keep his distance, to only follow her. If the bratva thought he was helping Morgan, he’d find himself in the same trouble. Taking a flight with Morgan was risky, but he had little choice in the matter. All flights were booked. And with Reed having gone dark, he had no access to FBI assets.

  Thankfully, Liam remembered Morgan had spoken with a man named Remy for her flight. It was easy enough to look through client files and find his name and number.

  But after reading the file, it added another mystery to the list. The file was too clean. It looked as if Morgan had added it but didn’t want any questions, so she tied up all ends neatly. Account paid in cash.

  When Liam spoke with Remy on the phone, it made him question their relationship even more. There was something about Remy that intimidated him, even if by voice only. Liam couldn’t get answers from the man. Only after explaining circumstances, which Reed expressly forbid, was Liam able to obtain the flight information.

  This was going all wrong, and he only had himself to blame. Well, himself and the woman who was sitting behind him ready to throttle him. And Reed. Sonya, too. As soon as they landed in Vegas he’d demand answers. Not only was Morgan risking her life, but that of her family, and now his.

  She’d better have a damn good explanation.

  * * *

  It was no wonder humans were not equipped with death-ray eyes, Morgan mused. She alone would wipe out half of the population just by glaring. The prey sitting in front of her would be the first to go.

  How did he get on board? How did he know? Remy wouldn’t have told him, would he?

  And how dare he take the front seat and assign her to the back like the cargo barely contained by the frayed netting!

  It was frigid in the flying scrap of metal.

  Morgan had been so worried about arriving to the airport in time that she hadn’t thought to bring warm clothes for the flight. This wasn’t an overfilled passenger cabin packed with warm bodies. This was cold metal with stacks of boxes. She should’ve brought a jacket.

  Liam, of course, had a coat. He didn’t seem to notice the temperature drop.

  Morgan rubbed her hands together, forgetting the danger ahead and the frustrating man sitting in front of her. She used what energy she had to keep her teeth from chattering and her hands from frosting.

  She grabbed her bag and pulled out her two days worth of clothing, layering them on top of her. It helped, but only slightly. Her hands were still cold, and she could still feel the chill as the air invaded through the fabric. The only items she had left in the bag were her bathroom necessities and undergarments.

  She could use . . . No, she wasn’t about to use her underwear as mittens. She’d just deal with the cold. It was only a one-hour flight, maybe more, depending on the speed of the lumbering aircraft. She wouldn’t die from hypothermia in the short time. But as her mind worked through all the reasons not to wrap her unmentionables around her hands — a key reason sitting in front of her — her shivering body decided otherwise.

  Morgan reached into her bag and brought out two pairs of work undies. She and her work under-attire were in a love/hate relationship. She had no need for frivolous silk and lace riding up where it didn’t belong while welding. Sturdy cotton was her comfortable friend. And would now be her mittens. Practical and functional.

  But sometimes Morgan wished there was a reason to wear something other than work garments. That was a wish that’d never happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. Morgan had known it as soon as she stepped into her father’s shoes. Her life now belonged to the bratva. Anyone close to her was at risk. She couldn’t do anything about the family that she already had, except to protect them as best as she could. But she damn well wouldn’t add to the family.

  With a sigh, she wrapped underwear around each hand as best as she could and then crossed her arms, keeping them in place and hiding them from view. If Liam or the pilot turned to look at her, they would only see a sliver of white. They would have to pry open her cold, dead icicle arms for a better look.

  Chapter 8

  “Cold?” Liam looked down at Morgan, huddled into a ball in her seat. He knew the flight would be chilly, but he thought Morgan would have brought a coat with her. Instead, it looked as if she was wearing three pairs of clothes. Now that they’d landed, she could warm up in the Vegas heat, but she first needed to open the door she was blocking.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered.

  “Then open the door.”

  Morgan looked down at her knees quizzically. “Turn around.”

  “Why?”

  “Just turn around!”

  Liam didn’t understand her sudden moodiness, but he hadn’t seen her when she wasn’t moody. Perhaps when she was drunk she was less . . . Morgan. But, for the sake of getting off the plane, he turned around and faced the pilot, who was peering around him at Morgan.

  “Open the damn door,” the pilot barked.

  “Hang on!” Morgan snapped.

  Liam hazarded a glance back at Morgan, only to see her shove clothing into her bag. Was that underwear? He averted his eyes. What was she doing with her underwear?

  He didn’t want to know.

  “You can turn around.” Morgan unlocked the door and shoved it open, using her weight to budge the
heavy metal.

  As soon as they were on the tarmac, Morgan slung her bag over her shoulder and took off toward the parking lot. Liam raced to catch up with her. She was trying to put distance between them, and Liam was not about to let that happen. If he blinked at the wrong time, she’d be gone.

  He still wasn’t sure why he was sticking his neck on the line for her. Well, not just for her, but for Reed too. This wasn’t his problem. However, no matter how he reasoned, he couldn’t turn his back and forget what Reed had told him. No, he was going to see this through and come up with a solution.

  “You’re not coming!” Morgan stopped so suddenly that Liam nearly ran into her.

  “I’m already here.”

  “Turn around and go home.”

  “I know what’s going on,” Liam said. “I’m here to help you.”

  “You have no idea. Turn around before it’s too late.” Morgan stormed away, but Liam caught her arm.

  “Would it happen to have anything to do with the Russian mafia?” he asked, thankful she stopped struggling.

  “How do you know?” she demanded. “I’ve told no one.”

  “Let’s just say I found out.” He didn’t want to bring Reed into the mix. Reed was already on the bratva’s hit list, he didn’t need to be added to Morgan’s.

  Morgan looked as if she was about to launch into an argument but stopped when she spotted a man in the parking lot. He was large, muscularly built with a shaved head and olive skin. He was the exact image of how Liam imagined a Russian mafia thug would look. He must have come for Morgan, and there was no hope of turning back now. Liam was in this until the end.

  “Who is that?” Liam asked.

  “None of your business.”

  Morgan walked toward the stranger without hesitation. Liam thought that was curious until he heard the man greet Morgan. Judging by the familiar deep voice, this had to be Remy.

  Remy quickly scanned Liam as he walked toward them. He held out a large hand. Liam studied the man as he shook his hand.