Morgan tilted her head to the side, so it rested on his shoulder. Her body relaxed underneath his arm as she drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her warm weight molded against his body. Ty’s defenses began to lower.
He’d been on high alert for the last twenty-four hours. Ever since he’d first spotted Morgan hunkered down in front of her brother’s office door.
He’d never expected her to keep her promise. She’d told him what she thought he wanted to hear, but her truthful eyes had told him everything he needed to know.
She wasn’t going to give up. She couldn’t. Her brother was in danger. People she cared for were caught in the middle. There was no way she was going to let the chips fall where they may.
Ty could understand. He’d never been able to be a bystander. He needed to be involved. He needed to help. It was something that burned inside him. And it looked like that need was inside Morgan Kincaid as well.
Of course, she didn’t have his Navy SEAL training. She’d never set foot in Quantico. All her sympathy and joie de vivre wouldn’t save her from the Bratva.
But Ty would. No matter what.
Last night, after she walked into her building, he’d pulled his bike into the alley across the street and kept watch. It hadn’t been hard to figure out which apartment was hers. It had to be the one with the lights on all night long.
Fortunately, the night had been quiet. There’d been no strange activity outside her building, no suspicious cars slowly driving by. By daybreak, Ty was satisfied that Barinov’s men weren’t planning an immediate attack.
The thought didn’t give Ty too much comfort. He’d been following Barinov for too long. The man never made an empty threat. Ty could only hope that slashing Morgan’s tires had been a warning and not a promise.
Either way, the vandalism was a reminder that Ty couldn’t relax. Not even on a night out. No matter what Morgan had planned for tonight’s entertainment.
Chapter Eight
Morgan worried too much.
It was a side effect of her overactive imagination. At least, that was what her mother always told her. And this one time Morgan was apt to agree.
She’d been running over every terrible scenario in her mind from the moment Ty had picked her up. Scenarios where the Russians ran them off the road, or waited in the bushes as she walked out of her building. In some she and Ty were shot quick and clean in the back of the head. In others, they were tortured with knives.
Of course, none of that had happened, and now, sitting safe and sound inside the warehouse, she felt a little silly. No one was coming after her. Not tonight at any rate. There was no way the Bratva would try anything with so many witnesses around.
Of course, being with Ty helped too.
He lifted her spirits. He made her laugh. It didn’t hurt that the man was a bona fide badass. So far, nothing had broken his cool exterior. Nothing rattled the man. Not even death stares from the scariest sons of bitches on the planet.
Who the hell was this guy?
He didn’t seem too keen on telling her, and Morgan didn’t want to press too hard. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. The truth was, right now, she was just happy he was on her side.
She lifted her head from his shoulder as she heard the familiar rattle of hard metal casters rolling across the concrete floor.
“Here we go,” she said, patting Ty’s leg as teams of three and four pulled massive crates up to the edge of the cage. A few moments later, they flicked open the locks and started hauling out their machines.
The team in front of them set their creation on the ground, a small, four-wheeled armor-plated contraption that looked like a bug. Four spinning saw blades stuck out of its sides and a swinging cudgel was mounted on top.
Ty’s brows pulled together. “Robots?”
“Robots.” Morgan nodded.
Ty looked at her. Confusion swam in his eyes. Morgan felt a strange wave of satisfaction.
So, there was something that could rattle him after all.
“You took me out on a date to a robot death match?”
“Well, technically it’s the Robotics Assault League,” she said with a shrug. “But, close enough.”
Ty opened his mouth as if he was struggling with what to say next, but before he could get his thoughts sorted out someone called her name from the fight floor.
“Morgan!”
She scanned the crowd and found a couple of familiar faces staring at her. One, more familiar than the others.
“Michael,” she said and waved back.
He jumped away from the robot in front of him. His straight dark blonde hair flopped at the sides of his ears as he took the stairs of the bleachers two at a time to get to her. Ty reflexively tightened his grasp around Morgan.
“Hey,” Michael said as he reached them.
“Hey yourself,” she said.
“Corey mentioned you came in.”
“Yeah, I had a night off.” Morgan motioned over at Ty. “Ty Daniels, this is Michael Silva. He’s the head of this whole circus.”
Ty’s arm relaxed a touch. Not all the way though. She could feel energy vibrating through him, even though his smile was as natural as ever.