“Positive,” Morgan said against his ear as she slid off her seat and onto the sidewalk. She already had her phone out and was texting.
Ty put his feet down on the edge of the sidewalk and watched as Morgan walked up to a sliding door. She gave it a quick rap with her knuckles then turned and gave Ty a wide smile. She rocked back on her heels as she waited. Wherever they were, Morgan was obviously comfortable.
Ty wasn’t so trusting. He kept his hands wrapped tight around the throttle, just in case. He’d already mapped out three possible escape routes from the cul-de-sac. And depending on who was on the other side of that door, he had no qualms about snatching Morgan from where she stood, slinging her across the back of his bike, and getting the hell out of here.
Then he’d come to his senses, take her back to his office and be done.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Ty’s fingers had just started to tighten around the grips when the wheels on the door track groaned loudly. The door opened a few feet and a man in cargo shorts and a Batman shirt stepped out.
Michael Silva. The robot builder. Morgan’s ex-boyfriend.
He and Morgan shared a quick hug. He pulled back and looked her up and down. “What’s going on? Your text said it was an emergency.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. But it looks like we’ve fallen into a bit of trouble and we need a place to hide out for a little while.”
Michael’s eyes went wide as he stared at the wrinkled mess of Morgan’s dress…the same one she’d been wearing last night.
“Is that blood?” he asked.
“Probably.” Morgan looked down at her chest. “But don’t worry. It’s not mine.”
Michael’s eyes went wider, but Ty had to give the man credit. He didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah, of course. Come on in.” He turned to Ty. “You can park your bike inside.”
Ty nodded and walked it through the door.
It took a second for Ty’s eyes to adjust to the dim light inside, but when they did he was amazed.
The inside could not have been more different than the facade. Far from a rundown junk pile, the interior was clean and modern. The sprawling floor plan was cut into dozens of large topless cubicles made from temporary walls. They branched out from each other, taking up nearly every inch of available space.
Between them potted plants and rugs lined wide corridors. The ceiling towered three stories above the poured concrete floor, making the massive warehouse seem even more spacious. A few industrial-sized lighting fixtures hung from above, but most of the light came from either the windows high above or from ground sources.
Ty followed Morgan and Michael through the labyrinthine halls and sneaked a few peeks through the open doors he passed by. He caught glimpses of plush carpets spread out across the cold hard floors. There were beds pushed into corners, couches against walls, and desks—lots and lots of desks—all overflowing with wires and mechanical pieces.
So this was where the robot makers lived…well, some of them at least. In a kind of an artistic and mechanical commune. They seemed friendly enough, judging by the smiles of the people he passed. Of course, they were. These were Morgan’s people, after all.
A minute later, they reached the far wall and the only real rooms that the warehouse seemed to have. Michael opened the office door and let them in. The compact interior was as homey as any apartment.
“You can have my room as long as you’re here,” Michael said and let the door shut behind him. “There are a couple of empty spaces I can take.”
“Thank you,” Morgan said. She clasped her hands in front of her, and flashed an apologetic smile.
Uh-oh.
Ty knew that look. Over the past few days, he’d come to know exactly what it meant.
“But I didn’t come to you just because we needed a place to stay,” Morgan said.
Michael’s shoulder fell just a fraction of an inch. Apparently, Ty wasn’t the only one who knew that look. “I figured as much. What do you need?”
Morgan sat down in the chair behind her, and stretched her fingers out on the caps of the arms rests. “How are you at safe cracking?” she asked.
***
“Morgan.”
Morgan ignored Ty’s low warning at her side. She was pretty sure she already knew his complaint. It wasn’t a good idea to involve outsiders. He didn’t know Michael. He didn’t trust him.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
But he’d agreed to trust her. And now she was going to put that to the test.
In all the years that she’d known Michael Silva, she’d never once seen him walk away from a challenge. And this time didn’t look like it was going to be any different. His eyes had already taken on that faraway look that she knew so well.
“Digital or analog?” Michael asked.
“Digital.”