Morgan saw through the sarcasm immediately. It was clear he and Deke were great
friends. Jack didn’t trust many people, but she’d bet he trusted the big blond guy with
his life. At this moment, however, Jack was tense, watchful, even a bit angry. He
pretended to take Deke’s teasing well—but he wasn’t.
“Well, you know I never pass up the opportunity to torment you. Not that I need the
practice.”
“Nope, you’ve got it down to a fine art.”
“Years of effort.” Deke sighed. “But I did come here for a reason.” He glanced back at
Morgan, all business now. “You might want to hear this, too. It’s about your stalker.”
She sucked in a breath. In all her tangled emotions and the easy banter, she’d lost
sight of the murderous lunatic. Silly her.
“Okay. Um, one minute. I can’t face this without something to eat.”
“And coffee, I’m sure,” Deke added.
Morgan made a face. Jack laughed.
“She doesn’t drink it,” he told Deke.
He raised a tawny brow. “Is she human?”
Rolling her eyes, Morgan padded back to the bedroom. If she was going to face the
testosterone inquisition, she needed something more than a flap of sweatshirt covering
her ass. Once she’d retrieved Jack’s oversized bathrobe, she padded to the bathroom and
brushed her teeth and hair.
When she made her way down the hall again, Jack and Deke both sat at the round
kitchen table, cups of strong coffee resting on the smooth pine surface. A piece of toast
and a glass of orange juice waited for her.
She glanced at Jack in surprise. He merely guided her into a chair without comment.
He’d made dinner last night, and now this? The man who tied her up and told her
exactly how to behave in the bedroom so he could send her straight to mindless orgasm
did something as menial as cook for her? Like he was taking care of her?
“Thanks,” she murmured, totally confused, as she settled into the chair across from
Deke.
Jack sat on her left, then with a nod, turned to his business partner. “Deke has some
pals at the FBI who have studied copies of the photos the sick bastard has been leaving
you and the pattern of his behavior.”
Deke gripped his mug of coffee and leaned across the little table, a formidable
presence even in the large, airy room. Morgan found herself holding her breath, hoping
that he knew something, anything, to help catch her personal Norman Bates before he
became a full-fledged Psycho.
“Your stalker is likely a man somewhere between the age of twenty and forty-five.
He’s someone you know. His behavior…he functions like an intimate-partner stalker,
someone who is a little obsessed and can’t let go.”
“But if he’s someone I know, wouldn’t I know who? I mean, wouldn’t he want me to
be certain who he is?”
“The way he withholds his identity is unusual. Either he’s purposely hiding it from
you or he thinks it’s so obvious that you must know who you ‘belong to.’ Judging from
the bit of evidence we have, I think it’s the latter. I don’t think this person is into
subterfuge for the sake of hiding. So that makes him delusional, too.”
Morgan sighed, her stomach tightening with fear at Deke’s every word. “Was there
any question of that?”
“No, but the fact that he followed you to Houston when you went to stay with your
fiancé tells us he’s serious,” Jack added.
Deke glanced back at her, surprise reflected in the raised arches of his brows.
Fiancé? Morgan searched her memory. Jack’s tense jaw and black glower suddenly
reminded her that she’d told him that she was engaged to Brandon. The lie hadn’t kept
him from moving in too close. But correcting Jack now would only give him a greener
light than he already thought he had to pursue whatever sexual arrangement he might
want from her. Nope. She was hanging onto to her subterfuge and pleading extreme guilt
in case he came sniffing around again. Next time, she’d have to remember she was
supposedly an engaged woman.
“L.A. to Houston is a long way for a prank,” she agreed.
“Exactly,” Deke cut in. “But the way this character took shots at you suggests there’s
vengeance on his mind.”
“He thinks you’re his,” said Jack. “But when he saw you having coffee with me, that’s
the first time he tried to shoot you…like he wanted to punish you and keep anyone from
having you if he couldn’t.”
“That’s twisted.” Morgan grimaced.
“Stalkers aren’t nice, normal guys.” Deke shrugged.