Biker Blues: Morgan Full Set E-Book

Mayer Dale

• Herausgeber: Dale Mayer
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

This is the full set of Biker Blues: Morgan.

Taking back the man who broke her heart once before would be colossal mistake...so what could possibly convince her to dare do such a thing?
 
 Tattoo artist Jazz Lawrence finds herself embroiled in a series of murders in which the only connection between them is a tattoo of her own design. One of the dead men may also be the brother of an old lover Jazz is desperate to forget.
 
 Motorcycle enthusiast Morgan Chancellor would be the first to admit he's made a lot of mistakes, but the monumental one was walking out on Jazz on the basis of lies he'd foolishly believed. He's had the blues since he realized his stupidity and lost his one chance at happiness.
 
 With bodies piling up and falsehoods unraveling, Jazz and Morgan find themselves back together again and the only truth is the one that may be the hardest of all to believe. Like the freedom of a bike and the open road, love never dies…

Leseprobe

Biker Blues: Morgan

Full SetParts 1–4

Dale Mayer&Tasha Lyons

Books in this series:

Biker Blues: Morgan, Part 1

Biker Blues: Morgan, Part 2

Biker Blues: Morgan, Part 3

Biker Baby Blues: Morgan, Part 4

Biker Blues: Morgan, Full Set

Other books in the Biker Blues world:

Biker Blues: Salvation, Part 1

Biker Blues: Salvation, Part 2

Biker Blues: Salvation, Part 3

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Back Cover

Complimentary Download

Biker Blues: Morgan, Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Biker Blues: Morgan, Part 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Biker Blues: Morgan, Part 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Biker Baby Blues: Morgan, Part 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Author’s Note

Complimentary Download

About the Author

Also by Dale Mayer

Copyright Page

Back Cover

It would be a mistake to take him back.

Morgan had broken her heart once. She didn’t dare let him hurt her again. But with the death of a man who could be his brother, Jazz finds herself embroiled in a series of murders and the only tie between them is a tattoo – one of her designs.

Morgan has made a lot of mistakes, but he made a monumental one when he walked out on Jazz. He thought he’d done it for the right reasons. Instead, he’d believed the tales he’d been told and lost his one chance at happiness. Now things have changed and even though it sounds impossible, he wants her back.

But as the bodies pile up, and the lies unravel, the truth has never been further away.

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Biker Blues: Morgan

Part 1

Dale Mayer&Tasha Lyons

Chapter 1

Jazz stroked a shadow along the edge of the back tire of the Harley with her favorite pencil. She needed the design to be slightly darker. This image was for Stengel. He’d been in and out of the shop for years trying to find the perfect one for his left butt cheek. She figured this fit his requirements, but did it have that special pizzazz he was looking for? Who knew? She’d been working on him for years. There wasn’t much skin left. However, this biker scene was close to his heart. His brother, Dormer, had died riding three years ago. They had been working on the right design ever since.

She laid her pencil down and stepped back. She’d known Dormer for years, as well as most of the guys in his motorcycle club. She had a soft spot for anything on a bike. His death had been a shock, like many others over the years. Watching Stengel go through the grieving, then healing process had been wonderful. This tattoo was her gift to both of them.

The phone rang in the background.

She pushed back the mass of blonde hair and looked around, still trying to pull herself out of the power of the sketch. The phone rang again.

Where was Roxy? She frowned at not seeing her best friend and business partner anywhere close. Damn it.

At the third insistent ring, she forced herself over to the front counter and picked it up. She never got a chance to say a word.

“Jazz?”

Heat and pain, fire and ice, sexual longing and sheer fury flooded her psyche and her body, the contrasting signals frustrating her and pissing her off more.

“What do you want?” she said with a chill in her voice. It was the only way she could deal with the mess that Morgan had brought into her world and into her heart. He’d been the hottest thing in her bed since chocolate was invented. He’d ripped through her and the sheets and ripped back out of her life, leaving a crater-sized hole behind. Sex had never been as good since. He’d been able to turn her on with his voice, make her come from the heat in his eyes, and melt from the touch of his hand.

Not anymore.

The pain… his anger… the whole damned mess had the phone shaking in her fingers. She wanted to beg for him to come back and that made her voice even colder. Fool her once…

“Well?” she snapped impatiently. “Stop wasting my time.”

There was an odd silence over the line and, for the first time, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t Morgan. Oh, hell. She opened her mouth to apologize when Morgan said, “I need to see you.”

“Screw you.” She slammed the phone down.

In her mind, she could hear his laughing voice saying, “I already did, sweetheart. Many times. And I doubt you’ve forgotten.”

Forgotten? Never. So not possible.

The phone rang again. She glared at it as if it was a rattler ready to jump out and strike her – again.

She turned her back on it.

It rang again.

She closed her eyes. No way in hell was she going to answer it.

It rang again.

Goddamn it.

On the next ring, she spun around and glared at it.

Then snatched it up.

“Go away.”

And went to slam it back down again.

“Wait,” yelled Roxy’s voice. “Jazz? What the hell are you doing?”

“Shit.” She lifted the phone to her ear again. “Sorry. Morgan called earlier.”

Roxy gasped. “He what?”

“He just called and said he wanted to see me.”

“Oh no,” Roxy groaned. “Not him again. We could barely live with you when he walked out last time. If it hadn’t been for his brother Billy, you might have gone completely off the deep end.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Jazz snapped, glaring out the window of the store at the empty street outside. It was late. Somehow, time had run away from her again.

“Hey, don’t bite at me,” Roxy said. “I had to leave a few minutes ago and called out to you that I was racing out, but I doubt you heard me. You didn’t, did you?” she accused.

“No, I didn’t.” Jazz closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. Thanks for calling and letting me know that I don’t have to panic when I can’t find you,” she finished. Her ability to get completely absorbed when working caused consternation among her friends. She’d likely not recognize that the building was on fire until the flames lapped up against the edges of her design.

“Yeah, now I’m going to worry about you,” Roxy said, strain evident in her voice. “He destroyed you last time. He’s a user. A taker. Don’t let him back into your life.” She waited a moment, then in a harder voice added, “And for God’s sake, don’t let him back into your bed.”

Bed. Morgan. Sex she’d not known was possible and hadn’t experienced since. She’d tried. Lord, she’d tried. But there’d never been that weakness, that need, or that searing heat to be filled as only Morgan had been able to make her feel.

Damn if her body wasn’t already starting to respond, anticipating Morgan’s presence, even after a year without him.

She hung up the phone after promising Roxy that she was fine, and no, she wouldn’t work late or too hard. She’d get into bed alone. She’d have promised anything to get Roxy to chill.

Now, emotions crawling through her and setting fire to her nerve endings, she paced the front of the store. The two of them had been best friends since forever. They had been running their own tattoo shop for close to ten years now. Both had a dozen relationships to their history and countless other close relationships that didn’t quite make it to the same level. Roxy had even tried marriage. Jazz would have in a heartbeat. Until Morgan walked.

Hell, he damn near raced away. She’d never gotten an explanation or an excuse. She’d have loved one or the other. Instead, it had been just a cut-and-dried end, one rife with questions and self-doubts.

The lights on the front of the store gave a weird colored hue to the street outside. She stood in front of the huge window, appreciating the wonderful colors. September was a beautiful month in Kelowna, BC, with the leaves turning and the temperature moderate. Except for the rain. Was there no end to the rain?

This wasn’t normal for here. This was coastal weather, and they were not coastal. They were in the interior and in wine country. That was the good thing about the location. She had been raised in Vancouver, but the whole big city thing wore her down. There were more customers in the city, but the ones here were easier to get along with. Besides, she was making a name for herself and people were starting to come in from all over the damn place.

There was also a large biker presence here. So far they’d been steady clients. She’d hung with a few until Morgan rode into town. Then there’d only been him. Thankfully, the others kept coming into the store.

Letting her breath out in a heavy gust, she strode back to the coffee pot, hating the way her nerves jiggled inside. They needed to let up. Except she’d never known Morgan to take no for an answer. She couldn’t imagine this time would be any different.

She glanced at the phone once more. Would he call again? She reached into the cupboard below the coffee maker and added a shot of Baileys to the mug. It was just that kind of day. Her joy at finally having the design she wanted for Stengel was now gone. Her complacency with a job well done, how far in life she’d come, her satisfaction with where she was now had been shot to shit.

The room was silent, empty. She snorted. She could fix that. She walked over to the stereo system and put on the local rock station. Anything to chase away the haunted feeling in her heart. Standing at the side, listening to the music fill the room, she took several sips of her heavily-laced coffee then finally smiled.

Life was good. She just had to focus on how good.

The door jingled as someone opened it.

She turned to smile at her next customer and froze.

Morgan.

*

Morgan knew he’d thrown her. It had been over a year since he’d walked out. And after six months of screwing each other like minks in the morning, afternoon, and night. She’d been the best thing in his world. The hottest thing in his bed. He’d loved her. Then hated her. Now…

Now he needed her.

From the darkening of her gaze, he figured she was still stuck in that dark place of hating him. Shit. She needed to get over it and fast. No. He’d thought he’d had good reason for his actions. But once again, Billy had thrown his life upside down until he no longer understood where he was anymore.

Maybe even more.

He’d at least been honest.

“Jazz,” he said quietly. “It’s good to see you again.”

She snorted, her gaze hard, cold. Angry. “Really? Well, you could have walked in anytime in the last year and seen me. It’s not as if I’m the one that took off in the middle of the night to never be heard from again,” she snapped, sarcasm oozing in her voice. She stood, her hands on her hips, the ripped jeans he knew covering the most luscious ass he’d ever seen, her feet splayed apart. Ready to launch herself at him – or ready to run.

He’d forgotten that part. At the time, it had seemed like the easiest way to leave. Without an argument. Without recriminations. Without… a woman’s tears. Especially deceitful tears.

Now he wondered. But the chances of getting a second chance weren’t looking so good. And that was too damn bad. What he’d done – for all the right reasons – had lost him something so precious, its value hadn’t been fully realized until it was no longer there. Worse, he’d lost the whole reason he’d backed off as well.

That was double the pain.

He’d not even told her yet.

“You’re right,” he said simply. God, she looked wonderful. If he’d been wrong… He hated himself for his actions, not knowing how he could have done this any differently and hoping maybe over time she’d forgive him. More than that wasn’t going to happen, which was a grief he’d have to live with. Jazz hated as much as she loved. Having been on the receiving end of those wanton lips and roving hands, he knew she’d put him through the wringer first before she’d let him off the hook.

Hoping to cut to the chase and get them past this awkwardness so they could get down to business and hopefully stave off much of her ire, he said truthfully, “I need you. Billy needs you.”

At the mention of his brother, her gaze narrowed and a soft hissing sound escaped from those lips. He blinked and waited. The play of emotions on her face made him wonder. According to his brother, the two had moved in together, and he was getting ready to ask her to marry him.

Had been planning to ask. Past tense. And he hated that instinctive reaction that said, “She’s free. Here’s your chance. Don’t blow it.”

It was why he’d come in person, even though the thought had damn near crippled him. For Billy, he could do this. It’s what Billy would want Morgan to do. To treat Jazz with the dignity of a future sister-in-law.

In slow, measured tones that he couldn’t read, she said, “What about Billy?”

He took a deep breath. “When did you last see him?”

Her gaze narrowed, pinning him in place. “None of your business.”

“Oh shit.” A lovers’ quarrel. A horrible feeling sank inside his gut. Surely it had not been so bad that Billy had taken his own life. No, his face was unrecognizable from the shotgun blast, but had the Medical Examiner actually considered suicide? If it was, he eyed the woman in front of him with mixed emotions. There would never be a future for them anyway, but if his brother had committed suicide over her, then he’d see her roast in hell.

“Answer the question,” he said in a low, deadly voice. He shoved his leather jacket off his arms and pulled out the horrific image he had stored in his back pocket. He’d never in a million years subject anyone to this type of nightmare, but if she’d been the cause of it, well, she deserved everything she got.

Including these nightmares.

He might have had something to do with sending Jazz down a vengeful path that led her to hurt his brother, but she should have picked on him, not Billy.

She shoved her chin into the air. “Fuck you.”

“Right. In that case…” he tossed the picture onto the table to the left of her. “Look at this instead.”

She glanced down, and her gaze widened, her mouth opening in horror as she stared at it, then she raised her gaze slowly to meet his. “Please tell me that’s not Billy.”

Chapter 2

She couldn’t breathe. Neither could she rip her gaze away from the monstrosity in front of her. A male body on its side. The face was hamburger meat, with the remnants of an ear dangling toward the area that used to be a neck. White spots stark against the dark red and black.

The room swayed.

She reached out for the closest chair.

“Shit.” Morgan grabbed her and guided her to the chair, pushing her down into it. “Sit and get a hold of yourself.”

So hard, so angry. So very mean. “Why did you show me that?” she asked, staring at the image, trying desperately to not find anything in there that would trigger recognition – a name, a familiar face that she’d no longer see. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Do you know him?”

“Know him?” she turned a bewildered gaze to Morgan. “How could anyone know him? I couldn’t even tell it’s a male.”

He crouched down so he could look deep into her eyes, as if searching to see the truth in her gaze. “That’s not true. Someone who’s worked on enough bodies as you have should be able to tell the sex of this man.”

She turned her gaze back to the image, noting the flat chest, built up pectoral muscles, the hair. The silver nipple ring, not one she recognized, and she’d seen many. “Yes, I can see it’s a man,” she snapped. “But I wasn’t looking to see that. I was… distracted… by the rest of him.”

With a deep breath, she reached out and flipped the image over, then spun in her chair to look at him. “Who is it?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment. He picked up the image and stared at it, then walked over to switch a second chair around before sitting down on it backwards to stare at her.

“Maybe Billy.”

She gasped, an icy chill washing through her. Just as fast as the cold slid down her, heat raced up. “And you thought I’d know that was him?” she asked in shock. “How could I possibly know that?”

He pursed his lips and pulled out a second picture from his jacket pocket. The one he’d planned to show her from the beginning. He dropped it on the table.

“What about this one?”

Jazz reached out and picked it up slowly. She studied the long male body lying on his stomach. The head up at the top of the image was mostly off the page but from the bit showing, she could see it was the same male. From this perspective, the male appeared leaner and longer. She studied the hairy legs and large bare feet with the odd bruising pattern, then let her gaze rest on the bare buttocks and the small tat on the left cheek.

Her breath caught in the back of her throat. A small dragon flew toward the crevice between the cheeks. Her signature tat. One she only used for lovers. Only lovers she cared for.

With one big difference.

“Who is it,” she asked, tears clogging her throat at the pain this poor man must have gone through. “Tell me,” she said in a stronger voice.

“You don’t recognize him?” he asked incredulously. “Do you always sleep with men that you don’t know well enough to recognize them?”

“What?” she turned to stare at him. “I don’t recognize anyone given there is no face here,” she tapped the image. “And I swear I’ve never slept with this man.” She frowned. She’d made a few poor choices in her life, but she’d hoped she’d recognize every man she had slept with.

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “As sure as I can be without a face to see. I doubt most people would recognize him.”

“Yeah, and the tat?”

“What about it?”

“You don’t recognize your own work? The tat you put on all your lovers,” he said mockingly. “I wear one. So does he.” He tapped the photo. “Or can’t you recognize your own work either?”

Just to make sure, she turned, grabbed one of many magnifying glasses she had lying around, and used it on the image. She couldn’t tell the artist from his work.

She shook her head. “I already knew, but this just confirms it. That’s not my work.”

*

Could it be? He stared at her in shock, but she stared back at him so calm and composed, he had to consider it. What if she was correct? Maybe this wasn’t his brother.

Hope slowly rose.

He’d been so sure, based on that tat. Billy had said it was Jazz’s work. He knew Jazz’s lovers sported a tiny dragon. He had his own. He’d asked a different artist about changing it and had even made the appointment to get it done but had chickened out. How could he remove the reminder of the best days and nights of his life? Needing that connection, no matter how small, he’d finally made peace with it and the tiny bit of her he was privileged to carry.

Now…now he didn’t know what to think.

“So tell me. Stop the damn games. Who is this?”

He took a deep breath. “I thought it was Billy.”

Silence.

He watched the blow hit her. She’d already been prepared in a small way, but nothing could mellow the shock and the pain. Her face blanched and her gaze pivoted from the image to him and back again. Stricken. Then she reached out a hand.

This totally surprised him.

“I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t believe it. Her fingers gently stroked his forearm. “I can’t imagine how you are feeling right now.”

Not what he expected, and he didn’t know how to respond. Her compassion hit him in the heart. It was a shitty day. This was a horrible way to find out about his brother – if it was his brother.

Regardless of the emotions overwhelming him, he was finally understanding one thing… something was seriously wrong.

He took a deep breath. “Are you sure this isn’t your work?”

She kept her gaze on him but let her fingers slowly slide off his arm. “Yes. I know it’s not my work.”

“Damn.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you could identify this man.” He glared at the image. “I’m afraid it’s Billy.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say.” Her gaze strayed to the picture again. “I don’t know the artist of that tattoo either.”

“But isn’t it your image?”

She slowly nodded. “With a difference.”

“What difference?” He looked at the image. It looked like what he’d seen before. But could he guarantee that it was the same? How fast a glance had he’d taken? It was his brother’s ass, after all. Billy had shoved his shorts down to show Morgan the tat. Morgan wouldn’t have believed it otherwise. But he’d seen it. Enough to identify the artist.

That had been enough. He’d walked out soon after. Hating her for being deceitful. A huge emotional mess trying to do the right thing. Now he wondered all over again.

Why would Billy show him the tattoo and tell him that Jazz had been the artist if she’d not been?

Then again, he was assuming that this male was his brother.

Maybe it wasn’t.

That would be huge. He wanted to believe it wasn’t, really wanted to believe it. But that tattoo looked too much like the one he’d seen on his brother’s butt. If it wasn’t his brother lying there on the cold table, then who was it? If it was his brother, then he’d lied about Jazz having done the tattoo.

Or Jazz was lying.

Shit. He slumped back, trying to sort it out, and realized he couldn’t; he didn’t have enough information.

“Will you come to the morgue and look yourself?”

At her shocked look, he added in a low voice, “Please.”

She shook her head. “God, I don’t want to.”

“We need to know if it’s him.” He held his breath, hoping and knowing he didn’t deserve it but desperate to know. “The tat might look different when you see it on him.”

“It won’t make any difference.”

He frowned.

“It’s not my work.”

He nodded but couldn’t let it go. “Maybe seeing it up close would help you to identify the artist.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at it. Then nodded. “Fine, but we have to go now before I lose my nerve.”

Chapter 3

The building rose in front of them. It was late enough that the streetlights shone down on the plain-looking building.

“We’ll go in here.” Morgan led the way to an entrance at the side of the building.

“Are you sure we can be here?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

She didn’t really believe him, but it wasn’t worth wasting time and energy on it. The idea of what she was doing consumed her. Still, she’d said she would do this, so here she was. Morgan had been quiet since she’d agreed to come. Maybe a little before. She was the one who had chattered unnecessarily for the trip. Anything to keep her mind off the upcoming viewing.

Morgan knocked on the door, his cell phone in his hand. He sent a text. The door opened a few minutes later.

“Hey, Dave, we’re here.”

“Good. Come on in.” The older man smiled at Jazz and held the door for her to enter. “Thanks for coming.”

She nodded mutely as she followed the two men forward. He took her to a set of double doors. “Normally we don’t do it this way, but as the photos aren’t enough…”

As if understanding what the hell he was talking about, she gave him a small smile, hoping her face didn’t look as dead white as the poor man she was coming to see. She walked into a small empty room to see a body covered with two sheets in front of her. Her breath caught in the back of her throat.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll be fine.” But she said it mostly to reassure herself more than him. With a deep breath, she walked closer. The older man walked to the other side of the body before carefully folding back where the sheets joined. He turned on an overhead lamp.

Light shone on the tattoo.

And she understood something that blew her away. The tattoo was identical to the one she put on her lovers, but… in a mirror image. Instead of pointing to the hip, the tail of the dragon pivoted toward the crevasse between the rounded cheeks.

In every other way, it was a copy of her tat design.

Yet, it wasn’t her work. She used color differently, and the edges were not as crisp. Not bad. But it wasn’t hers. She leaned closer, pulled out the magnifying glass she’d thought to push into her purse before leaving her shop, and studied the scales in the tattoo. There was something there. Something different.

“What do you see?”

“A number,” she said quietly, her voice low, intense.

“What?” The older man leaned closer. “What kind of number?”

“This tattoo is older.” She straightened, her heart sick and her mind furious at the cruelty of others. “But the number is new.”

“What?”

She stepped back to let the others look, her mind wondering what to make of it. The tattoo had been done a while ago, the skin long healed, the color still bright.

The older man looked up at her. “You do this type of work?”

“I’m a tattoo artist,” she acknowledged. “In fact, a favorite design is the mirror image of this one. I have never done one with this layout, and I never would. This is not my work.”

He nodded. “I’ll take a few more images and blow it up so we can see it better. We’re running DNA, but if it turns out to not be Morgan’s brother… we’ll need everything we can get to identify him.”

She spun to look at Morgan. “I understood there was no blood connection.”

Morgan’s gaze hardened. “We have the same father.”

“Oh.” She frowned, not knowing how that worked. She thought it was the matriarch DNA that mattered. But what did she know? All she wanted at this point was to leave. Go home, pour a hefty drink, and take it into the bath. Soak for an hour or two to wash away the odor and sight of this poor man. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to get rid of the image from her mind.

She stepped back, well past ready to leave.

*

“Okay, if there’s nothing else we can do here,” Morgan said, “I’ll take her home. You have my cell phone number if I can help with anything else.”

“We’ll run with this and see if we can track down the artist.” The older man looked at Jazz. “You don’t recognize the artist?”

“No,” she said shortly, “And I do know a lot of artists. The thing is that it is my design, so they’ve seen it or taken a copy of it from somewhere.”

The man nodded. “Is this a design you’d have lying around somewhere? Easily accessible?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t have a pattern or a paper version of this lying around.”

“So the only way they’d have seen this design?”

“From one of the people I have inked it on.” She sucked in her breath as if waiting.

In fact, Morgan said, “You’ve only ever used that design on a specific segment of the world, correct?” He wanted to laugh at her hooded gaze, but this wasn’t anything to laugh about. She wasn’t appreciating him volunteering information, but he knew the cops would get there on their own. He just wanted to get there faster so they could solve this. If this was his brother, he needed to know. And if it wasn’t, there was another family that needed to be informed.

“What?” Dave asked. “What am I missing?”

She closed her eyes. “This design is only on my previous lovers.”

Silence as both men studied her. Morgan wanted to laugh but the older man looked like he’d sucked on a lemon.

“Sounds like I need a list of the men…or women…who you have inked with this design then.”

Her face twisted with distaste. Morgan could relate.

“We need to track down what yours looks like so we can compare the two,” said the older man.

She nodded. “In that case, you don’t need me.”

She turned around and walked back outside.

Dave looked over at him. Morgan sighed. Damn, she’d turned the tables on him very effectively. “So do you have a camera?”

“Yeah, why?” Dave stared at him in puzzlement. He walked over to a door on the far side of the room.

“Get it, please.”

Dave shot him a puzzled look but disappeared for a moment. Morgan paced the room, hating the next step. Jazz was likely laughing her fool head off.

The sound of a door closing had him turning in Dave’s direction. The older man waved the camera. “Okay, so where are we going?”

Morgan snorted. “Right here.”

He reached for his belt buckle.

Chapter 4

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.

Chapter 5

Stupid. She was back inside her house, and damn if Morgan wasn’t there, too. Why? How? She didn’t want this.

She tossed her keys and purse on the table and stared at Morgan. “Why are you here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Screw that. You had your chance to talk. Not now.” She pulled her kitchen chair out and sat down, dropping her head onto her c [...]