His brows pulled together. “A lone wolf?”
“I don’t know.” Morgan threw her hands in the air. “Everything I know about the criminal underworld comes from television shows.”
“I’m not a criminal,” he said.
“So, what are you then?”
“Come inside and I’ll explain,” he said.
Morgan looked at his hand again. She drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. She still wasn’t certain that she wanted the truth but what other choice did she have?
“I just don’t know. I mean—”
“Oh, for God’s sake. We don’t have time for this,” Ty said.
He wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her off the bike as if she didn’t weigh an ounce. Her belly landed with a hard thump against his shoulder. Morgan kicked her legs wildly as she looked down at the pavement six feet below.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Making up your mind for you.”
The ground started to move. A second later she heard the metallic clink of his boots on the steps of the fire escape.
“I’d stop thrashing if I were you,” he said, his voice laced with humor. At least someone was enjoying this. “I’d hate to drop you.”
Morgan stilled even though Ty’s arms felt as sturdy as steel rods wrapped around her. He was taking the steps two at a time now and the parking lot was quickly getting farther away.
“Put me down!”
“You didn’t say please.”
That was it. She didn’t care who the hell he was. Once she was back on her feet, she was going to kill him.
“Put me down, please!”
He stopped moving. She heard the chime of keys. She lifted her head in time to see a wooden door being kicked open. Ty stepped inside.
A moment later, he slowly slid her down the length of his body. Even after her shoes hit the kitchen tile, he didn’t let go. His arms stayed around her waist. His hand lingering dangerously close to the curve of her bottom.
“There. All better?” he asked with that wicked smile that never failed to heat her blood.
Morgan leaned back and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could.
“Now I am.”
Chapter Ten
“Hey! That hurt.” Ty leaned over to rub his leg, and hid the amused smile spreading across his face. The woman had a vicious sting.
“Good,” she said, and turned away from him.
Of course, if that was what he got for carrying her up a flight of stairs, he shuddered to think what she was going to do to him when she found out the truth.
And he had to tell her.
He’d been turning the situation over in his head the whole way here. He couldn’t wait any longer. The Bratva didn’t come after someone unless they meant to take them out permanently. Morgan needed protection.
He’d bolted from her apartment with every intention of taking her back to his office, but somewhere around Valencia Street he’d changed his mind. She’d be safer spending the night at his place.
And it wasn’t just his little head doing the thinking. If the Bratva knew that Morgan had been taken into protective custody they’d destroy every bit of evidence connecting them to Kincaid’s, and Ty would lose his only chance of bringing Barinov down.
And as long as Barinov was walking the streets Morgan would be in danger. Ty was willing to guess Morgan wasn’t the kind of person who would be happy to sign up for witness relocation.
He glanced up to see her walking across his kitchen. Without asking, she opened his fridge, pulled out a bottle of cold bubbly water and jumped up on the counter. Her feet kicked out from under her polka-dotted skirt, her bright hair shown in vivid contrast to his neutral oak cabinetry.
Something told him that, even if she did consent to protection, she wouldn’t be the best at blending in.
“So, Ty, if that is your real name,” she said, fixing him with a dramatic stare. “Now that you’ve carried me up here, are you finally going to tell me who you really are?”
The woman did watch too much television. 70’s cop shows by the sound of it.
Ty walked over to the island in the middle of the kitchen and pulled open one of the drawers. He reached inside and pulled out his badge case.
“What’s that?” she asked with a slight quiver in her voice. She put the green glass bottle down at her side.
“Your answer.” He tossed it over to her. She caught it and looked down at the dark leather cover. Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. Finally, she cracked open the fold, and her face drained of color.
Morgan stared down at his silver badge and identification for a long moment before she lifted her head. “FBI?”
Ty nodded.
“W-what is an FBI agent doing in my club?”
“The same thing you were doing—investigating the connection between your brother and the Bratva.”
“You’re going after Gregg?” There was a note of panic in her voice that pulled at the soft spot in the center of his chest.