Jazz watched as Morgan shook his head, his features hardening in the light of the streetlamp.
“No way.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too dangerous,” he snapped in a hard tone. “Not happening.”
“So… instead,” she said slowly, “You’re going to leave me, injured and helpless, out here in the dark alone?”
He opened his mouth, glanced at the garage, then back at her. “Damn it. That’s not fair.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “No, it’s really not. There are lights on in there. The guy is probably long gone. We can look for the bike and maybe find something to help identify our stalker.” She motioned to the street. “Or I sit here all alone and wait.”
“I’d rather you stayed here and waited.”
“And I’d rather not be alone. I am not feeling very good,” she admitted quietly. “What if he’s watching us and comes around from the back while I’m all alone?”
He groaned and reached out a hand to help her get off. “But you stay close and you follow my orders, do you hear me?”
She gave him a disgruntled look, but he was adamant. “I’m not going to go in there if you don’t agree. We’ll go straight home instead.”
“We need to find out everything we can about that bike,” she protested.
He cocked an eyebrow and waited.
“Fine.” She stood at his side. “Lead the way.”
With a curt nod, her hand secure in his, he turned and walked to the secure parking lot. A vehicle was entering. They walked in at the same time and slowly made their way up the curved road. She studied the vehicles. There was everything here from beaters to flashy sporty cars. A cross section of people lived her. Interesting. Kelowna was fairly average in its demographics, but there was a ton of money in the town. Only those people didn’t live at apartments like this. They lived in the waterfront properties and there were other elite properties for the next income bracket. This apartment was the workingman style.
Morgan pointed out a bike parked on her left. She could see it was a towing bike and not the one they were looking for. His gaze searched in a methodical left to right manner. She was the opposite. Her gaze lit on one vehicle then another and another, her gaze switching direction as her eyes caught and landed on something of interest. Being an artist, she loved detail. Color. Design. And there were nice vehicles here. A few custom paint jobs, but not many.
In silence, they kept climbing. By the time they were up several more levels, she was feeling it. Her shoulder ached, and so did her feet for that matter. It’s not like she was dressed for a hike. Her sneakers would be perfect for something like this, not the lightweight fashion boots she’d slipped on.
Morgan stopped suddenly – Silently, he lifted his arm and pointed to the right. She peered around his shoulder. “That’s it,” she whispered, excitement rippling through her. She hadn’t really figured that they’d find it here.
It sat only a few meters away. In seconds, Morgan was crouched down beside it, his hands stroking the large blue tank.
“Do you recognize it?” she asked.
He tapped the reflective stripes on the left side of the bike and nodded. “Yes, it’s the one involved in the shooting at my house. It’s also the one we saw tonight.”
“Good. The cops can come here and pick the shooter up.”
With a long stare in her direction, he slowly shook his head. “On our say so? No. They will likely try to find the owner and ask questions, but there’s no way to be sure the owner is the rider we saw.”
She shook her head. “So we’re no further ahead.”
“Yes, we are.
“Right.” She stood up and walked around the bike. There was no license plate attached, but it was sitting on the number 26 parking slot. In the background, she heard Morgan call the cop that he’d been dealing with.
Were they trespassing? They’d snuck in. She hadn’t considered that in terms of the case, but maybe they were screwing things up for themselves.
She waited until he was off the phone then stood and stared at him expectantly. “And?”
“He’s going to come and take a look,” Morgan said in surprise as he stared down at the phone in his hand. “That’s good.”
“Should we leave?” she whispered, suddenly feeling like they should be out of here as in a long ways away. And fast. She backed up and looked to see if there was a faster way to get to the exit.
Morgan was studying her.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She wanted to get the hell way. “Let’s leave.”
He frowned. “It might be better to stay here where we can make sure the bike is still in the same place when the cops arrive.”
“I want to leave,” she whispered. Instinct had her looking over her shoulder. “It feels wrong to be her. Like we’re being watched.”
At that, he straightened and searched the gloom around them. “When did it first start?”
“Few minutes ago.” She wanted to shrug, but her shoulder was really starting to kill her. And Morgan wasn’t moving fast enough for her. “You stay. I’ll go back to the bike.”
“Whoa, that’s what you didn’t want in the first place, remember? To be out there alone.”
“Yeah well, I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be in here with that bike. Something is wrong. As in something is very wrong with this scenario.”
And she started to walk to the entrance. When she heard his footsteps fall in behind her, she picked up the pace. Within seconds, she was running down the long winding road to the front entrance with Morgan running easily at her side. She was holding her injured arm tight against her chest and wished she could explain the urgency driving her.
When there was a weird pinging sound, she instinctively dropped to the ground almost crying out as she banged up her shoulder. She lifted her head and looked around. Morgan was hiding behind a steel support and peering up in the direction where the bike was. An engine roared in the darkness.
“It’s the bike,” she screamed over the noise.
But Morgan had raced out from behind his hiding spot and picked her up off the ground and dragged her back to safety. Not that there was such a thing. She trembled in the dark shadows, hoping the biker hadn’t seen her. If he had…
The bike ripped past them in the darkness.
She collapsed against Morgan, her breath raspy, hard.
This was all too much. She wanted her nice calm life back. Her tattoo parlor and regular clients. Instead she was out here was Morgan and no end of shit pissing down on her life.
Like what the hell.
“Do we wait for the cops now?”
Morgan answered, “I’ve just texted him with an update.”
“Good, then we should be able to go home.”
He stood undecided for a long moment, then with a big shoulder shrug, he said, “Sure, let’s go.”
She grinned.
*
Morgan helped her back onto his bike. He noted the pale skin and bruising under her eyes, her almost unrecognizable eye color in the poor light. She was fading quickly. This hadn’t been the five-minute trip they’d both envisaged. Still, they knew where the bike was housed, so that was something the cops could work on. His top priority now was to get her back to her house and pick up clothes and toiletries as required. They’d walk through her empty house, lock it up, then bring her back to his house. Where she belonged.
A cop car pulled up to the side of the bike as Morgan placed his helmet back on his head. He recognized Shaun, and pulled the helmet off again. He quickly explained what had happened while Jazz sat quietly on the bike.
When they were done, and Shaun had completed his notes, Shaun said to go home and stay out of trouble. He’d check out the bike and the owner of the parking spot.
Morgan drove away carefully with Jazz sitting securely behind him. She sagged against him heavily. Shit, he shouldn’t have let her leave the damn house. She’d be sound asleep if they’d stayed home. And that’s what she needed. Sleep. Not running around in the damn city chasing a stalker. What the hell had he been thinking of?
Still, she could go get some things now before he dragged her back to his home. And this time, he’d make damn sure she stayed there.