Coltons ultimate test, p.6
Colton's Ultimate Test, page 6
Tim snorted. “Good luck.”
“We need more than luck. We need information. We thought maybe, with your past experience and connections—”
“Whoa! Stop right there. I don’t have any connections like that in Blue Larkspur,” Tim was quick to assert. He shot an uneasy glance toward the door of the empty room. “Look, even if I had information that would help you, I sure ain’t gonna talk about it here.” He glared at Roman. “I can’t believe you brought her here to my work site, man. Not cool.”
“I don’t mean to imply I think you’re still involved in anything illegal, Mr. Hall.” Morgan raised a hand toward Tim in a conciliatory gesture. “We simply hoped you had some ideas that would help us. I’d be willing to pay you for your time and any information you could gather.”
The construction worker’s eyebrow quirked. Yep, money talked.
“The man we are looking for is known to be involved with drug smuggling in the area, if that helps.”
Roman cut a startled glance toward Morgan. “You didn’t tell me that.”
She faced him. “Does it change anything? Mean anything to you?”
“No. I’m just surprised you didn’t mention that rather significant detail earlier,” he said and frowned, peeved that she’d withheld that part of the equation. He really didn’t want to get on the wrong side of any local drug dealers or smugglers. He ran a clean operation at the Corner Pocket, and even a hint of his involvement with illegal drug culture could bring the wrong element to his doorstep.
“Any particular drug?” Tim asked, his expression changing to one of wary curiosity. “Meth? Crack?”
Roman wondered if it was the drug element that had changed Tim’s mood or Morgan’s promise of payment. His former employee had certainly become more helpful when Morgan mentioned payment.
Morgan tipped her head. “A little of everything, I think. Why does the drug matter?”
“Well...” Tim shifted his weight and glanced toward the door, as if worried someone would be listening. He canted closer and dropped his voice. “If you track down the dealers he’s hooked up with, you might figure out how they clean their money. A lot depends on who the guy knows and can trust. If he already has channels at work in the drug biz that he trusts, he’s not likely to stray too far from what he knows will work.”
“Right,” Morgan replied, nodding. “That makes sense.”
“And I don’t use or nothing.” Tim hitched his thumb toward Roman. “He knows I don’t. But I’ve heard the guys on the crew here talk. Maybe—and that’s a big maybe—I might be able to ask some questions. For the right price.”
Morgan’s face brightened. “That would be great!”
Tim and Morgan negotiated a mutually acceptable sum in exchange for Tim’s information hunting, and she dug a down payment toward the total from her wallet. “I’ll pay you the rest when you bring me useful information.”
“Deal. But no more meetin’ here!” Tim was quick to add as he stuffed the folded bills into his chest pocket.
“You can come to my office when you get off work,” Morgan suggested. She dug a business card out of her pocket, and Tim looked at it as if she were offering him poison.
“I have a better idea,” Roman said, pushing the card back toward Morgan. “Come by the Corner Pocket tonight, maybe around closing? We’ll have a drink, something from the grill—on the house, of course—and we’ll talk then? No one to overhear, no pressure. What do you say?”
“Well, a’ight.” He scowled then, adding, “But the only reason I’m doing this much is ’cause you gave me my first break when I got out. It meant a lot to me, you giving me a chance, a job. I owe you for that.”
Morgan arched an eyebrow, as if deciding whether to comment on the cash incentive she’d just paid, but wisely she kept mum. When she glanced at Roman, he detected a degree of admiration for the loyalty and respect Tim voiced. And perhaps a hint of smugness, too?
“So...closing?” Tim asked. “That’s eleven, yeah?”
Roman shrugged. “Sorry to make it so late, but I stay pretty busy through the evening hours, filling in wherever I’m needed. The holidays have had us really bustling lately. By ten thirty or so, things calm down. Fewer ears around, less noise. Maybe we’ll shoot a round or two of eight ball?”
Tim braced his hands on his hips and looked from Roman to Morgan and back again. “Okay. I’ll come. It’s been a while since I whipped your ass at pool.” He scratched his ear. “But...not tonight. Tomorrow. I need time to look into a thing or two. No promises it’ll pan out, though.”
“Give it some thought. You might know more than you realize,” she said.
Roman took Morgan’s arm and tugged her toward the door. She gave him an I-wasn’t-finished-grilling-him frown.
“We’re done here,” he said, more to Morgan than his former bartender. “Thank you, Tim. We’ll see you tomorrow night.”
* * *
Disappointment stabbed Morgan as Roman hustled her out of the construction site. She wasn’t sure what she thought Roman’s friend would offer them but leaving relatively empty-handed felt like a defeat. Defeat never sat well for her, whether in the courtroom or in her personal life.
Her face must have reflected her frustration, because as they stepped out onto the north-side street, Roman nudged her with his elbow. “Chin up. He could still give us something useful tomorrow night.”
“You really think so? I got the distinct impression he was more interested my payment and in milking you for a free drink while shooting some pool. He seemed wholly unwilling to give up any valuable tips whether he had them or not.” Morgan gave the derelict street and neglected buildings a wary glance.
“Maybe, but even if that’s the case, you haven’t lost anything except that down payment.”
“And time. Which is pretty costly at this point. It’s unlikely Spence will sit on that money for long. If he’s going to launder it, it’s going to happen soon. I can feel it in my bones.”
When someone down the street shouted, Morgan’s pulse jumped, and she sidled closer to Roman, bumping him as she crowded him on the sidewalk. Though his presence gave her some measure of comfort, there was a reason she never came to the north side of town anymore. Her nightmare had been born here.
Chapter 5
When they returned to her place, Morgan invited Roman to come up for a cup of something warm to drink. After all, he had given his time to help put her in touch with a possible lead. To summarily dismiss him now that the errand was complete would be rude.
“Thanks, but no. I meant what I told Tim about evenings being busy at the bar. I need to get back. But...” He draped his hand over the top of his steering wheel and gave her a crooked smile. “We have unfinished business of our own.”
Her heart slammed her ribs, his sultry tone conjuring the recent memory of the kiss they’d recklessly shared that morning. “What...business?”
“You owe me a date. Dinner tomorrow. Remember?”
“I remember dinner. I never called it a date.”
“Call it what you want, but I’ll be by your place tomorrow about seven. That work for you?”
“We’re supposed to meet Tim tomorrow night at the Corner Pocket.”
He bobbed a nod. “At closing. That’s eleven on a weeknight. That leaves us plenty of time for dinner. Maybe even a movie after. Then back to my place to talk to Tim.” He twitched his lips in a grin. “I promise to have you home by midnight, Cinderella.”
She rubbed her suddenly damp palms on her coat. “Right. Well, a deal is a deal.”
He scowled. “Ouch. You wound me, Colton. Don’t make it sound like such a chore.”
“I didn’t mean—That is—” She sighed and gave him an apologetic smile. “Seven will be fine.” She started to climb out of his car but hesitated. “How should I dress?”
“I’m not planning to take you to the Burger Shack, if that’s what you’re asking.”
She grunted. “I’m not.”
He reached to brush a knuckle along her cheek, and a tingle, whether of surprise or of pleasure, she couldn’t say, streaked down her spine. “Work attire will be fine, but...maybe wear your hair down?” He tapped the bun at her nape with a finger. “You’re much too young and too pretty for this schoolmarm action.”
A startled laugh escaped her, despite the oxygen backing up in her lungs when he touched her. “Schoolmarm?”
He winked. “See you tomorrow.”
Morgan’s phone rang as she was unlocking her front door, and she fumbled her cell phone from her purse, distracted by thoughts of her wardrobe for tomorrow night. If Roman thought her hair was prudish, what must he think of her dark suits and the rest of her plain business attire? The need to look and feel feminine and appealing swamped her, and with these thoughts swimming in her head, she answered the call.
“Hey, sis. Good time to talk?”
The male voice had her instantly alert and on edge. “Ezra? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Who said anything was wrong?”
“Well... I just never hear from you unless something has happened. Are you okay? Is it Mom?”
Her brother, recently retired from the Army, had spent a portion of the summer living at their mother’s home a short distance outside Blue Larkspur. Until he’d met and fallen hard for single mother Theresa Fitzgerald.
“Mom is fine as far as I know. Certainly on cloud nine lately, thanks to her budding relationship with Theo.”
Morgan smiled as she slid her coat off and hung it by the door. “I know, right? She’s so cute, the way she gets starry-eyed when she talks about him.”
“Did you just call our mother cute?”
“Unless you need your ears checked. If nothing’s wrong, then what’s up?”
“I need a favor.”
“Now I need my ears checked. Did my self-sufficient, former Army sergeant brother just ask little ole me for help?” Morgan’s grin spread. As one of the triplets born just after her and Caleb, Ezra had always been an independent sort. She couldn’t count the times she’d heard him say, “I can do it myself!” when she tried to help young Ezra saddle a horse or tie his shoes or do his chores.
“If you want me to ask someone else...”
“What’s the favor, Ez?”
“Well, Theresa and I are planning to do most of our Christmas shopping for the girls tomorrow, and we need somewhere to hide the gifts until Santa delivers them. They’ve been rather snoopy lately, and we don’t want anything to spoil the surprise.”
Morgan pictured Theresa’s energetic six-year-old twin daughters, Neve and Claire, and her heart gave a tug. The blonde pixies had melted Ezra’s heart and wrapped him around their pinkies. “Of course. But why here?”
“Why not? Your house isn’t too far from Theresa’s, and I last time I was there, you had all that extra space in the guest bedroom.”
Morgan kicked off her shoes and considered the utilitarian pumps. She needed something sexier for dinner tomorrow. “What size shoe does Theresa wear? Do you think she has anything strappy and sparkly I could borrow?”
“Um, what?”
“Sorry. I’m planning my outfit for an outing tomorrow. Yes. Bring the gifts over. I’ll hide them for Santa. And ask Theresa about the shoes. I wear a seven.”
“Hang on.” She heard muffled conversation before he came back on the line. “Sorry, she says she has nothing strappy and sparkly in a size seven. What’s the occasion?”
“Just...a business dinner.” Well, that was partly true. She wouldn’t characterize her dinner with Roman as a date...or, at least, not to her younger brother. “You remember where I keep my spare house key in case I’m not home?”
“I do. And you remember that I told you hiding a key outside wasn’t safe? Burglars are smart enough to find keys under flowerpots and doormats.”
“Which is why my key isn’t under a mat or a pot. It’s inside the toolshed in a soup can.”
Ezra made a low growling noise of discontent before signing off with, “Thanks, Morgan. Love you.”
She blinked her surprise at the last sentiment, startled that her military-tough brother had spoken the endearment. Proof positive that Theresa and her girls—and maybe his recent brush with danger and death—had given Ezra a new perspective on love and family. “Love you, too, Ez.”
But she’d taken too long, stunned and touched by his words, and he’d already hung up.
She set her phone aside and stretched out on the couch, propping her bare feet on the cushions. Truth was, her whole family had been rattled by the series of disturbing events over the last year. Far too much peril and misfortune had invaded their lives. The upside of it all was the fresh appreciation for her siblings and her mother, for the love that had found her brothers and sisters. Sighing, she told herself she was not jealous of the relationships and joy her siblings had found. But the still quiet of her home seemed to echo around her. The silence mocked her. And when she closed her eyes, Roman DiMera’s face appeared in her mind’s eye.
* * *
The next day at work, Morgan had a difficult time concentrating. Her mind strayed frequently to the evening ahead. She found herself looking forward to dinner out. It had been a long time since she’d shared a meal with someone outside her family and their significant others. As much as she loved her brothers and sisters, seeing them pair off and find new love had her feeling a bit lonely and left behind. Her friends’ busy lives, the holiday rush and her backlog of cases thanks to the extra time she’d devoted recently to family matters and the Truth Foundation projects meant she’d had little social life.
Schoolmarm. Roman’s term to describe the knot she kept her hair in for work had pinched when he used it, but she was starting to see that more than her hairstyle was too wound up and boring. She’d been fun once, hadn’t she? Had taking on the responsibility of helping their mother with the youngest siblings killed her sense of adventure and whimsy?
She shoved away the contract she was reviewing, having read the same paragraph five times without letting the words sink in and needled by the idea she’d lost some of her spark. Flopping back in her desk chair, Morgan mused on the notion she was dull and too wrapped up in work. Was that why her love life had been lacking? If they were sitting across from her now, her friends, especially Stacy, would encourage her to cut loose, maybe indulge in a one-night stand to expend some pent-up sexual energy and reclaim her mojo.
On the heels of that thought, an image of Roman popped into her brain as he’d looked the day before, when she’d confronted him at the Corner Pocket. When he’d learned she’d dug into his past, his eyes had lit with an intensity and fire that had smoldered with something that had felt a bit dangerous, a little untamed and a lot sexy. She’d have never thought she’d be drawn to a—what was the term Stacy used?—bad boy. Someone with rough edges and a questionable background and a dark, rugged look that told the world he wouldn’t conform.
No, geeks and white collars had always been her style. Maybe that was why she was still single, still looking for Mr. Right. When she weighed the last perfectly nice accountant she’d dated against the somewhat mysterious and broad-chested Roman DiMera, it was the ex-con bar owner who titillated her interest and made her blood sing.
“It was that damn kiss,” she muttered to herself, turning her chair to stare out the window to her enviable view of downtown Blue Larkspur and in the distance, the mighty Rocky Mountains. But she saw none of it. Her mind was remembering Roman’s mouth, the feel of his fingers massaging her nape, caressing her cheek, setting fires wherever he touched her. Heck, even his guiding hand on her elbow when they’d visited Tim Hall at the construction site had made her breath hover in her lungs and her pulse skip like a schoolgirl’s.
If she hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t had that taste of Roman, she’d be far more capable of resisting the allure of this particular bad boy. Any dieter knew, you didn’t take even one bite of that tempting chocolate cake. Once the heavenly sweetness was in your mouth, your senses all fired and demanded more. Not until you binged on the whole thick slice of cake and overloaded your tongue with rich fudgy goodness could you satiate the yearning for the sweet treat.
Morgan groaned. Great. Now she wanted Roman DiMera and a thick slab of homemade chocolate cake!
She slapped closed the file on her desk and jerked open the bottom drawer of her desk to retrieve her purse. As she headed out of the office, she stopped at Caleb’s office door. “I’m calling it a day and heading home.”
He consulted his watch. “At two o’clock? Are you sick?”
“No. Just...horribly distracted and getting nowhere. I have a business meeting set for late tonight, and I think I’ll do better getting in the right frame of mind at home on my treadmill. I do some pretty good thinking there.”
When she was putting on her coat, giving Rebekah an update on what little she had accomplished today, her youngest brother, Gavin, burst into the office, buffing the cold from his hands. “Hey, there’s my favorite sister!”
Morgan chuckled as he folded her into a bear hug. “You must need a favor.”
“What? Why would you think that?” He nodded a greeting to Rebekah with a wink.
“Because I’ve never been your favorite sister before.” She stepped back from the hug and took in her brother’s happy countenance. Since falling in love with Jacqui Reyes, he’d exuded a contentment and joy that Morgan, frankly, envied. “In fact, when you were seven, I distinctly remember you telling me you hated me.”
“Pfft. Not me. Must have been one of the triplets.”
“Oh, it was you. I was making you turn off your video game and go to bed. But I forgive you. What favor can I do?”
