Jazz waited, her back against the door. She stared up at the light. She couldn’t believe she was standing outside a morgue waiting for Morgan of all people. This wasn’t what she wanted. Neither was it the way she’d expected her life to be today. Roxy would never believe her – or be happy about this turn of events.
Was it Billy lying in there on that cold slab? It didn’t bear thinking about. Their last meeting had not been nice and was a memory she’d be happy to erase. One that seemed so much worse if that was him in that damn building.
For all their differences, she’d never wished he was dead.
She’d not seen him naked but had seen him without a shirt on. She couldn’t remember any birthmarks or other distinguishing marks. The man on the table was roughly the same height. The same weight. The same skin tone. Without seeing a face, she had no idea who it was. There was no guttural inside feeling that said it was him. Why would there be? It wasn’t as if he was someone she’d known intimately, no matter what Morgan seemed to think. There had been only one man in that room wearing her ink, and he’d not been on the damn table.
The cool night breeze drifted in through the valley. She wanted to go home and forget about death and bodies. She wanted to go back to when the only thing in her mind was her next masterpiece. She lived for her art. Loved everything about it. Knew she was blessed to be able to make a living of it. It blew her away every day. Other people had to get up each day and go to work. She got up and went to her business and her art.
Life was freakin’ awesome. Or had been until Morgan arrived. She looked at his bike and wondered if she could just leave. Or would he track her down? She was so damn tired, she just wanted to go home and to bed.
Yes. Her hormones sat up and cried for joy at the sound of bed, remembering better times. Hell no. Not with Morgan. Never again with Morgan. She knew better. He was deadly. He’d shown her another side to her personality. One she’d never realized existed. A hot seductive woman who had learned to love the skin she was in. It had made her a better person. A better artist and a better friend – even to herself. When he left, he’d taken the best part of her.
Repairing her self-confidence and her broken heart had been almost impossible. She wasn’t willing to risk that again.
Liar. She was up for a ton of sexual reruns right now if she thought there was a chance she could do it and keep her heart intact. Other women managed it. She didn’t know how. In fact, she’d been celibate since Morgan. And that just sucked.
She’d tried, several times. She’d been desperate to erase the memory of Morgan’s touch. To prove to herself that it had not been Morgan’s magical touch that had brought her alive. That she wasn’t just hot for him but that her body, now awake to the wonders of the heat locked inside, could enjoy a passionate encounter with anyone she was attracted to. Then after the last particularly embarrassing scenario where the young man had flung himself out the front door, she realized she wasn’t ready to love. It felt like a betrayal to her. Not fair, and it didn’t make any sense, but there was no sense to the heart. It was what it was. Now a year later, she’d actually been planning on attending a party this weekend with the hopes of finding someone gorgeous to let her frustrations out on.
Other women could have sex with anyone. Why couldn’t she?
She just had to get over that damn blockage first. She threw her leg over the gorgeous Harley she’d bought a few months ago and turned on the engine. She’d head home alone. Screw waiting for Morgan. She didn’t owe him anything.
She’d done what he asked. That was enough.
With a kick of her boot popping the stand, she rolled forward before hitting the gas and ripped out the parking lot. Take that, Morgan Ashton.
The night was mild and mellow, with the earlier threat of rain never having materialized. Crossing the town to her home only took ten minutes, then she was parked outside her small bungalow. She locked the doors tight and checked them twice. Maybe it was the dead man that made her do that last bit but whatever it was, she was no fool. She’d no plans to be on the table beside him.
Not anytime soon.
She texted Roxy the news then pulled out a bottle of wine and poured herself a hefty drink. It was over. With any luck, she’d never have to go inside a morgue again.
She shuddered and took another long drink. The phone rang. Her assistant, Perl, was gratifyingly upset for her. Perl had heard the news from Roxy. Hesitantly, she said, “I might have identified him. We were lovers for a time.”
They were? Jazz stared at the phone in shock. She hadn’t known. She’d not have cared either.
“I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He didn’t want you to find out. He was sweet on you.”
Jazz snorted. “Right. Like hell. He was a kid with an attitude.” Besides, if he was sweet on her, why was he screwing Perl? The bastard. She wanted to ask Perl what she’d been doing with him but knew it would bring up bad memories for her. Better leave it alone. Besides, if Billy gave her a few happy nights, then it was all good. She deserved them.
“He thought you were the best thing ever.”
“He’d have outgrown that fast enough,” Jazz said with a snicker.
“Are you sure it wasn’t him?” Perl asked.
“Hell, no I’m not. I don’t know anything. I do know it’s not my tat on his ass though.” And something she might need to reconsider doing. Morgan wore the last one she’d ever done.
“That must have been awful,” Perl said in a gentle voice.
“It was.” Jazz groaned. “When did you last see him?”
“Not for a few weeks. He came around a few times and tried to convince me back into bed, but that’s all.”
“And what was your response?” Jazz asked.
“I told him no. I wasn’t you and until he was over you, he needed to stay single and not screw around with another woman’s heart.”
“Oh shit. I had no idea,” Jazz exclaimed. She’d only ever had eyes for Billy’s brother, Morgan. Billy hadn’t ever even hit her radar.
In fact, he’d been the irritating younger brother. Kind of off with his jokes, his gazes that were too assessing, the possessive way he acted that drove her nuts. He wasn’t anyone she clicked with. Instead, he was the kind of guy that was slimy.
After Morgan, she’d not wanted to be around Billy at all. The memories were too painful. The reminder was something she couldn’t handle in her face every day, but Billy had always been around at that point, in the shop, hanging out at various events as if to offer support. Eventually, she’d mellowed enough to be friendly and appreciated him, but it had taken awhile and she’d never gone further than that. Not intended to ever go further. She couldn’t. She only wanted Morgan.
Somewhere in the last few months, Billy’s visits had become fewer and further in between. She’d not really noticed.
“Did you two breakup a few months ago?”
“We never really had a thing to breakup. It was more a friends with benefits type of thing.”
Typical of where she was at in her life. Perl was determined to never get serious with another man.
Jazz shrugged. “Interesting. I’m sorry he’s missing or possibly dead, but tonight was horrible and I hope to never have to go through that again.”
“Well, if it’s him, I’d really like to know,” Perl said. “He meant something to me once.”
“I’m sorry, Perl,” Jazz softened her voice. There was no point in being mad at the situation and taking it out on her friends. “I’m in a shitty mood. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good enough.”
Jazz stared down at the phone in her hand and winced. Perl’s voice was definitely clogged with tears. Shit. She quickly phoned Roxy and brought her up to speed.
“Holy shit. I leave the store early for the first time in months and all hell breaks loose.” Roxy waited a long moment then asked in a low voice, “Are you okay?”
Jazz knew what she meant. “I’m fine.”
That same thick silence filled the space between them. Damn, Roxy knew her too well. “Okay, it was tough. Seeing Morgan, the body. Damn, it was just a lot to sift through at once.”
“So take it easy and have an early night. If you’re lucky, that will be the only time you see him.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he is going to let it go so easily. He really seemed to think that was my tattoo, and it bugged the hell out of him.”
“Of course,” Roxy said calmly. “Think about it. That tat was what…close to a year old? When did the two of you breakup? Maybe he thinks you went from him to his kid brother.”
“That’s gross,” Jazz snapped. “I’d never do that.”
“I know, honey, but that doesn’t mean Morgan does. You spent all your time in the sack with him, how well do you know him? How well did he know you?”
Gloomy and hating the memories that were trying to overtake her common sense, Jazz walked to the window and stared out into the night. “I don’t know. At the time, I swore I knew him inside and out. God, I loved him.”
“Ha. You’re still in love with him, and that isn’t good. He wasn’t there for you back then or now.”
“I know. I think the number was added to give it the air of being newer.”
“So?”
Jazz shrugged, and still in a confused state of mind, said, “Hell if I know. I’m going to pour a second glass of wine and have a hot bath.”
“Good idea. See you in the morning.”
Jazz rang off and walked through her small home. Something felt off. Wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Then again, it had been a shitty day. There was no reason to think her sense of wrongness had anything to do with something else after Morgan and the shit she’d been through already. She prowled around her house and couldn’t settle. She walked into the bathroom and bent to put on the taps, then straightened again. “I don’t want a damn bath.”
She stopped and groaned. She did want a bath. She didn’t want a bath right now. She didn’t feel…safe. How stupid was that? Her momma didn’t raise any fools and her daddy would have taken his belt to her for ignoring that intuitive sense of something being wrong.
The trouble was her instinct was getting worse. Making a fast decision, she grabbed her purse and keys, raced out the back door, and slammed into a broad chest.
Instinctively she went into self-defense mode. Something else her daddy drilled into her. Her knee went up and her elbow headed for this throat.
Only she was blocked at every turn before having her arms yanked back behind her. “Shh…it’s me, damn it.”
She stilled, recognizing that for all the forcefulness of the arms restraining her, she wasn’t being hurt and that voice – of course it was Morgan.
“What the hell are you doing here,” she hissed in low tones.
“What the hell are you doing running out of the house like you were being chased?” he countered in equally low tones. “Are you going to hit me again? If not, I’ll let you go.”
True enough, he let his arms fall away. She rubbed her wrists. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
“A few minutes. Why?”
“Just a sense of being watched.”
“Did you see anyone?” he said in sharp tones, all business now. He shoved her behind him and spun around, looking for an intruder. “I didn’t see anyone, but there was an uneasiness to the air.”
“Inside too. That’s why I bolted. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong and then decided I wasn’t going to stick around and wait for it to get worse.”
“Let me go in and check out the place.”
She snorted. “I already did. Whatever or whoever it was, it was out here.” She shrugged, starting to feel foolish. “I don’t know, maybe I sensed you out here.”
Instantly the air charged with heat. He slanted a look down at her. Thankfully, in the dark he couldn’t see the heat rising on her cheeks.
“We always had an extra sense between us, didn’t we?” His voice smoothed out, warmed up, and started to slide deep inside her heart, as if looking for the rest of him where she’d kept him stored.
She shuddered. “I’m not going there.” She stepped back out of range, but that deep melting voice followed her.
“Afraid?” he asked, then added in a persuasive tone, “What we had was good. Fantastic even.”
“Yeah, until one of us took off without warning,” she shot back.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmured. “It was deadly hard on me too at the time.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Really. So tough on you that you just had to get up and walk away. No explanation. No goodbye. No, hey, thanks for the great fucks, I’m outta here.”
The light was just enough that she saw him wince. Good. He should feel like shit. Any painful blow she could deal him didn’t compare to the pain she’d been through.
“I know it sounds inadequate at the moment, but I’m rethinking all that I thought I knew back then. My reasons were sound at the time,” he insisted. “At least I thought so then.”
She listened, waiting, hoping for an answer to solve the mystery of his exit, but he held back. Damn. Frustrated, she spun back to her house and walked back inside. What had happened to her nice, orderly life?
Right. Morgan had happened.
*
He should have brought it up. The moment, lost now, might have been the right time. He was still so confused himself, grief clogging his throat. He knew it was his brother there on that damn cold table. He’d nothing more to go on than instinct. They would have to wait for the DNA results to confirm. Dave had taken several pictures of Morgan’s left cheek, chortling away at the time. The conversation was still running through his mind…
“She’s a looker, Morgan.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Bet she’s a wildcat in bed.”
Morgan had shot him a warning look, enough for Dave to realize some things were not up for discussion and his sex life and Jazz’s bedroom activities were definitely off the plate.
Dave chuckled. “Still, a girl that brands you as her own. Interesting concept.”
And not one Morgan had considered before. How many others had that witch covered with her brand? When he’d seen his brother, the anger inside damn near had him choking Billy.
Jesus Christ. He hadn’t known about their relationship. Had not realized he’d horned in on his brother’s girl. Had felt torn and like shit at the time. When Billy had begged him to back off, citing all the girls in Morgan’s life and asking him not to make Jazz yet another one, he’d hated himself.
He’d not thought of Jazz as another girl in his long history of other girls. Things had been so hot. So damn good. He’d been a happy camper. Then he found out about his brother’s busted relationship with Jazz because of Morgan.
He’d given his brother one month to fix things or he’d be back and take Jazz away from him permanently.
“It’s not fair to have you here at the same time. She’s my girl. Always was. I don’t know that I can stand to know that she went to you instead of me, but if you leave, she’ll come back to me,” Billy had pleaded.
How stupid he’d been. Morgan thought back to that one day a long time ago. Billy had always been the best at emotional blackmail. Letting Morgan know how badly he betrayed his kid brother. How much Billy had loved Jazz and if Morgan were not there, he’d have Jazz again.
Morgan had believed him.
Particularly after the one argument. When Billy had yelled, “If you love her, then marry her. Otherwise, walk away and let me back into her life. I will marry her. I’ve loved her forever. She was mine before she was yours. So back off.”
There had been that note of desperation in his voice that had been new. That worry inside that he might do something stupid.
“One month,” he said. “I’ll give you one month, and she better be back in your bed and wearing your ring or I’m stealing her away.”
“Ha,” Billy had said bitterly, “You already did.”
He’d walked out that day, hating himself for being such an ass, knowing he couldn’t go back to her again or he’d have to tell his brother to fuck off, Jazz was his and his brother could go find someone else. He’d been looking after Billy since he was just a kid and knowing he’d unwittingly stolen his girl…yeah, he’d felt like shit. He’d walked out and desperately tried to make that okay in his mind.
Now seeing her pain, her ire, he wondered at the mindset he’d been in when doing as Billy had wanted had seemed okay.
His brother. The best at manipulation even for those who knew him well. The best at making others do what they would not normally do. His kid brother, who knew every trick in the book to bring Morgan to heel. Billy was a user, but he was Morgan’s baby brother. And he’d let Billy yank his chain for a long time. Damn if he hadn’t done it all over again with Jazz.
Morgan had returned exactly one month later. He walked into the shop ready to face whatever he needed to face; brother, lover, or ex-lover and brother. Only there had been a gathering of some kind. That wasn’t news. There was always some kind of get-together. Jazz in the middle, as always. His brother leaning over her and dropping a kiss on her cheek. Her glance upward and a beaming smile.
Morgan had walked back out of that door and out of both their lives.
Until the damn phone rang with someone asking him to identify the body. The body that held his brother’s wallet, wearing that same dragon tattoo Morgan had seen before on his brother’s butt when he’d shown it as proof to his brother of his relationship with Jazz.
Now Morgan wondered, what the hell had happened?
How many of his brother’s lies had he believed that he shouldn’t have?
Who was telling the truth? Billy?
Or Jazz, who appeared to not recognize the body of a lover and who said she’d never inked the tattoo on the dead man’s butt. For the first time in a long time, Morgan realized he might have made a mistake. A huge mistake. More than just walking away. For believing she’d been unfaithful to boot. He stared at the woman he loved more than anything—and had only realized after he walked away what a fucking huge mistake it had been. Damn his brother and the lies he’d sported as truth. One there might be no fixing – ever.