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When Bash stood to go back to the motel room, he came face to face with Morgan. She was barefoot in a jersey and sleep pants, her arms folded across her chest.
“What are you doing out here without a coat? Trying to catch pneumonia?” he asked, hoping she hadn’t overheard his conversation.
She stared at him, then averted her eyes. He saw hurt in her eyes.
“I woke up and wondered where you were. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped or anything,” she said, trying to sound light-hearted, but it was forced. Her eyes were focused on the ground as if there was something fascinating to see, avoiding his eyes.
“Checking in with Gray. I didn’t want to keep you awake.”
She finally met his gaze, shivering in the night air.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began, biting and twisting her lower lip. “As much as I appreciate your help with our getaway today, it might be better for the both of us if we split up. Beth called a few minutes ago. Once I find a place to store my bike in Ashville, I’m going to fly to Nashville and stay at her apartment until I can sort this out. Pops doesn’t need his motorcycle anymore, and since you really took to it, it’s yours. I know you’ll take good care of her. That way, I wouldn’t have to think about some stranger owning Roxy. It shouldn’t be hard to have it shipped to Chicago. Your friend Gray can send a plane for you, and you’ll be home for afternoon tea.”
He took a step toward her. “Morgan…”
She held up a hand. “No Bash. It’s for the best. You have your own issues, and you don’t need mine compounding things. I’m not trying to take advantage of you, and you don’t owe me anything.” Turning her back to him, she walked back to the motel room.
Shit! She overheard my conversation with Gray. What she suggested might be the best option, but it wasn’t one he was willing to accept. It was a lie. She hadn’t spoken to Beth. He was sure of it. Not that Beth wouldn’t help her if asked, but Morgan would never put her friend in danger. She was taught at a young age to depend on herself, and that was exactly what she was doing. Putting others before herself was what she did.
When he got back to the room, Morgan was tucked in bed, facing the wall. Her phone lay on the nightstand between them. Pushing aside his guilt, he picked up her cell and tried to turn it on. The battery was dead. Confirmation that Beth had not called. She was going it alone.
He fell back on the bed, wondering how the hell he could possibly get to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Morgan planned to get up early and be gone by the time Bash woke up. That would prevent any awkwardness between them. She had an internal alarm clock that woke her up within five minutes of 5 a.m. every morning. When she awoke, the room was completely dark. She reached over to grab her phone, hoping it would give her enough light to get to the bathroom, but the battery was dead. She remembered thinking ‘why bother’ last night, forgetting she might need the light or to know what time it was. With an inward sigh, she felt her way around the bed, found her backpack on the chair, and then made her way to the bathroom. In an effort not to wake Bash, she flipped on the light after she closed the door.
As she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she thought about leaving a note. Decided the motorcycle was thanks enough. She would have to remember to send him the title when she got home. If it was safe for her to go home. The sooner she got out of his hair, the better for him. She looked around the room one last time, barely making out the outline of the rumpled bed where Bash peacefully slept. It broke her heart to leave without saying goodbye, but she knew he would feel obligated to ask her to stay.
Bundled in her coat, fleece cap, and boots, she threw her backpack over her shoulder. When she grabbed for the door handle, she realized she had forgotten Pops’ ledger. She felt around the small desk but found nothing. The only other place it could be was on the table beside Bash’s bed. If that were the case, she had no alternative but to turn on the table lamp.
The flash of light momentarily blinded her. When she opened her eyes, she saw a fully made bed but no Sebastian Bartoli. Stupidly looking around the room, she couldn’t work out where he could have gone. His leather case and backpack were missing, along with Pops’ ledger.
“What the heck?” She flung the door open and ran outside.
It was still dark, and it took a few moments for her to get her bearing. Their bikes were parked behind the motel. Running around the side of the building, she stopped dead in her tracks. Bash sat comfortably on the Ultra Classic with one foot propped up while he ate a granola bar and read something on his phone, the soft light outlining his strong profile.
“Bash? What are you doing?” she asked softly, feeling a flood of warmth. He hadn’t left her.
He looked up in mock annoyance. Lowering his phone, she could no longer see his expression clearly. “It’s about damn time you got your ass out of bed. Let’s get moving. I’m not in the mood to dodge bullets this morning.” He turned on his headlight and started the engine. Revved it a couple of times. She watched, stunned. “You waitin’ for a fuckin’ written invitation, Chip?”
Shaking her head, she struggled to keep her voice steady. “No, Bash. I’m asking what you’re doing? Aside from using your potty mouth. And you know exactly what I mean. Please don’t make sarcastic remarks. Is it pity? Guilt?”
She had heard enough of his conversation with Gray to know they didn’t trust her or her grandfather. They had run extensive background checks on them. His friend wanted to send a helicopter to pick him up. The only reason Bash had refused was because she had helped him escape the lake house. Guilt or obligation. She didn’t need either.
He rubbed his leather-gloved hand over his face and turned away for a few seconds. When he turned back to face her, his features were hidden in the shadows. She wished she could see if his face reflected his words.
“The truth?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing, Morgan, but it’s not for any of the reasons you might think. We’ve both had a lot thrown at us. So far, we seem to be doing okay handling it together. We’ve formed a partnership. A weird support system. Us against them. As crazy as it sounds, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m taking responsibility for my own decisions. I have gotten entirely too comfortable with other people managing my life. It has made things easier for me. My friends are my managers, and I trust them, but I wouldn’t have been at the lake house in the first place if it hadn’t been for their insane plan.
“Somewhere along the way to success, I stopped thinking for myself even when my gut told me it was a bad idea. Since all this trouble began, I’ve been the one giving the orders to them. And you’ve been giving them to me,” he laughed. “But that’s okay. You know what you’re doing and have always had a solid plan. Your instincts are good. I want to see this through for the both of us. You’re good at cutting through the bullshit and breaking things down for me. I like that. You tell me the truth, not what I want to hear. Does any of that make sense?”
She smiled and walked over to her Sportster, slipping her helmet over her head. “Only if we can work on some adjectives and adverbs that don’t begin with an ‘f’ and end with a ‘k.’”
He snickered and put on his helmet. “Let me clarify something. Just because I’m a successful writer doesn’t mean I’m an eloquent one. You obviously haven’t read my books. Don’t hold your breath on that request.”
