“Those women he kidnapped and tortured. He made you part of that?”
“Yes.” The word sounded so tiny and harmless. But with it she surrendered everything. “He taught me how to fish—that was his word for it. Going fishing. Using me as bait. When I got good at that, he taught me how to do…other things to his precious little fish. He liked the way I could make them scream.”
She felt his body stiffen beneath her palm, absorbing the blow. “Did you like it?”
How to explain? “I liked being good at something. When Clint was happy with me, with what I did, it was as if God had reached down and handed me the whole universe wrapped in a ribbon. I lived to make him smile.”
“He conditioned you. Taught you.”
“Yes. But I think I’m also wired like he is. I’m not like normal people. Somehow I’m different inside. I don’t feel things the same way you do. I’m…empty.”
She blinked. That was something she’d never admitted before, not even to herself. She’d always told herself that being different meant being special, that not feeling made her superior to the sheep and fish that filled this world. But after meeting Micah, all that changed. Not who she was—that was hardwired. Rather, who she wanted to be.
It wasn’t merely that Morgan trusted Micah—she also trusted Andre but still never let her guard totally drop when she was around him. No. This was much, much worse than that.
Micah made her feel safe.
Except now he was shaking his head. It was too much for him. He’d be leaving her soon, she was certain.
“Did you,” he swallowed and started again. “Did you kill anyone?”
“Yes.” Her tone was as blunt as a two-by-four. “And I enjoyed it—it’s the one thing I’m good at.”
A frown pulled his eyebrows together and he turned to face her again, a hand on each of her elbows, gripping her tight. “No. Morgan, that’s not true. I understand—kinda—what you’re telling me. I can only imagine what it was like, growing up that way. But you can’t truly believe that. You’re so smart and brave and—look what you did when we first met. You saved my life. Not just mine. And you did it without killing anyone.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her in close and kissed her. It wasn’t as sweet as their first kiss, or as tentative. This time it was Micah telling her what he felt, what he believed but did not have the words for.
Morgan couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting more.
Finally they parted. She traced a finger along the scar on his neck, brushed his hair away from his face. “You should leave. Me. Now. Forever.”
“No.” He lay his hand over hers, pressing her palm against his cheek.
“Seriously. Micah. I’m selfish and impulsive, and I’ll always put my needs before anyone else’s, and I’m manipulative, and—”
“And brilliant and courageous and the strongest damn person I’ve ever met. Besides, you should know a few things about me.”
His eyes were like twinkling stars, and she couldn’t resist. “Oh, yeah? What’s hiding in that deep, dark past of yours, Micah Chase?”
“I’m a slob. I don’t put the toilet seat down. I like to argue and can see three sides to every debate, and I’ll take them all at the same time. I live inside my head and lose track of time and am always late. And I’m selfish.” He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Extremely selfish. And stubborn. Once I find something worth hanging on to, I’ll never ever let go.”
He pulled her against his chest, his lips brushing the top of her head as she listened to his heartbeat. Faster than hers but steady and strong.
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” she whispered.
Before he could answer, the door behind Morgan opened and a man hopped in, brandishing a pistol. “Don’t move, or Prince Charming here is dead.”
Chapter 16
THE EXPLOSION IN Clint’s vault hadn’t injured Jenna, but it had frightened her. More than she cared to admit. Oshiro had decided it wasn’t even a blasting cap, rather just a few M-80 firecrackers tied to a clever sparking tool with short fuses. Given the narrow confines of the bank box, the force of the explosion had been contained, creating far more sound than fury or damage.
Tell that to her pounding heart or the fuzzy way her hearing kept getting way too loud and then would cut out, the world silenced by white noise. Or the trembles that didn’t shake her body but instead radiated below her skin like an itch that couldn’t be scratched but made her flesh crawl.