Wicked Ties(137)

seemed so sweetly innocent. I overlooked your impurity because you were over twenty-

one, and we hadn’t known each other previously.

“After we argued about your crude bedroom ideas, I eventually realized that I might

not have given you enough attention, and I started pursuing you again, despite your

involvement with Mr. Ross. I decided to flatter you, and believed I could save you by

marrying you. But…” He clicked the hammer back on the gun and gave a disdainful toss

of his head toward Jack. “As soon as you met Mr. Cole, you began acting like a bitch in

the throes of heat. He’s a well-known dominant, and you all but licked him up with your

gaze.”

Morgan drew in a deep breath, resolving to stay calm— despite the fact that she both

itched to strangle the bastard and run screaming from his gun. She ignored her temper

and her sweating palms.

“I wanted Jack. He understood my need to submit, Andrew. He taught me there’s

nothing wrong with that.” Whatever other deceptions lay between them, she’d always

had that gift from Jack. “Your failure to accept me as I am only proves we’re ill-suited. Go

give some other woman your attention. Maybe she’ll appreciate the obsessive bit. I don’t.

Get the hell out of my life.”

“You’re only proving what I feared. The only way to purge you of your wickedness is

to kill you.”

Morgan froze. Andrew raised the gun. Andrew—her former producer, her former

fiancé, the mild-mannered artsy type wasn’t just hyped up on momentary anger. He

seriously planned to kill her.

“Now!” Jack shouted in the tense, churning air.

Deke grabbed her, yanking her to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Out of the

corner of her eye, she saw Jack grab the gun at the small of Brandon’s back, then push

her brother into the corner behind Andrew, out of harm’s way. Then she saw nothing, as

Deke ripped her from the cocoon of the sheets and began to roll her under the bed.

An explosion thundered through the room. A moment later, something struck her in

the chest, whooshing the breath from her body with the force of the impact. The sting

seared fire across her skin. In an instant, her body nearly imploded with pain. She cried

out. But a second blast masked the sound.

She gasped for breath, a strange weightless, nearly floating feeling assailing her.

A cry, a thud, then…

“Morgan!” she heard someone shout as if from a distance.

Jack. It was Jack’s voice. He sounded worried.

“Here…” she whispered, frowning against the pain. What was wrong with her?

“Shit!” Deke rumbled behind her. “She’s hit!”

She was? Morgan’s eyes fluttered open in time to see Deke put his shirt over her chest

and press down. Painful, damn it!

“No…” she wailed.

“Where?” Jack demanded.

“Hell, I don’t know. Her chest, I think. There’s blood everywhere, front and back.

Shit, she’s bleeding fast. Call 911!”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Jack dropped to his knees, watching Morgan’s face pale into something damn near

ghostly. The red of her blood gushed through Deke’s gray T-shirt, turning it morbidly

dark. The coppery smell of blood burned into his nostrils, exploding in his brain.

Son of a bitch, he wished he could kill that asshole Andrew all over again! For making

her doubt her sexuality, for even thinking of hurting Morgan. And this time, he’d enjoy

putting a bullet between the bastard’s eyes.

But now, there wasn’t time for anything besides saving Morgan’s life.

Yanking the sheet off the bed, he wrapped it around her wound, applying pressure

with one hand and reaching for the phone with the other. The 911 call only took a few

moments, and the dispatcher promised to have someone there within minutes.

Jack only hoped Morgan hung on that long.

Now, all he could do was wait…and do a little damage control.

Casting a desperate gaze up at Deke, Jack was shocked to see his own grim concern

mirrored there. Morgan had even left her mark on his hard-ass, tough-as-nails business

partner.

“Take Brandon and get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving her,” Brandon said, now hovering above him, concern tightening his

mouth.

“You stay, and the press will have a field day,” Jack snarled. “Four men, one of them

dead, two guns, and one naked woman all in the same hotel room. They’ll start asking

questions that the son of a man running for president shouldn’t have raised. You leave,

and I can play this like a bodyguard just doing his job. I’m friends with the locals. It will fly.”

Brandon hesitated. Jack could tell his former friend was torn, and he didn’t give a