Page 37 of Tying the Knot
“You're sure she wasn’t being coerced into saying that?”
“Not unless she was also coerced into vomiting while she was talking to me.”
His scowl eases, but not by much. “I don’t like this.”
“She said she’d ring me when she feels better. The best thing we can do now is to pick up some Lucozade for her and ask room service to take it up to her with some dry toast in a couple of hours.”
We lock gazes.
I don’t waiver.
Eventually, he huffs. “Fine. You sort that. I want to head back and look at the CCTV to see if it picked up anything on the SUV at the front of the house. Nik, ring Stewie and get him down here today to get that cam fixed at the back. I don’t care what you have to do. That is a massive blind spot, and this could’ve ended a lot differently today.”
Nik nods and pulls his phone out, disappearing with Eli and Kaleb, who gives me a grim look. I stare mildly back at him, not about to give the game away, and breathe out when they all leave the way we came. I speak to reception about the toast and pay for it, then run to the shop to get the energy drink, returning to hand it to the receptionist to take up later as well.
I head into the bar area and order a drink, pulling my phone out of my back pocket to wait. I hope she does ring, just so I know she’s okay.
Thirty minutes later, I look up as Kaleb dumps a bag at my feet. “Are you convinced she is just sick?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I’m going to stay here in case that SUV shows up, ‘kay?”
“Figured. It’s your coat and some stuff to do while you sit here.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and reach in, rolling my eyes when I see a bunch of case files. “Tell Eli to go get knotted.”
“Cold cases always need fresh eyes. Might as well use your time wisely.”
“You can join him.”
He grins and waves, sauntering out, but I suspect he isn’t going anywhere either. We all know that Morgan is precious. Win or lose, we will protect her at all costs.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Morgan
I wakeup from a fitful sleep where I alternated between tossing, turning and throwing up. The cramps are killing me. Probably not literally, but maybe? I glare at the bottle of Lucozade on the bedside table and the uneaten toast. It was sweet of Dylan to send it up, but I can’t stomach anything. I’m mildly affronted that the bottle doesn’t have a knot on it. NowthatI could use.
I grab my phone and squint at it, bringing up Google to do a search for a shop nearby that sells vibrators with knots. I know they exist, but it’s just never been my scene. I thought I could do this alone, but I was wrong. I need assistance.
I find one not too far away. Sitting up, my head swims, and slick pools underneath me to soak the sheets. I grimace and get unsteadily to my feet. Hobbling to the radiator, I grab the nearest t-shirt and pull it over my head. It’s Nik’s. It smells of fabric softener, which is comforting at the same time as nauseating.
There is no way I can get showered, dressed and walk down to the shop, which is a good three miles away. I cannot get on a bus in my state. It would be asking for trouble. I’m going to have to place my faith in the cute, kind beta to see if he will help me with this embarrassing, yet necessary endeavour.
Snatching up his card, I fall back into my nest, avoiding the wet patch and picking up my phone again.
I dial.
It rings once, and then he answers. “Morgan?”
I blink. “How did you know it was me?”
“Wild guess. You okay?”
“Yes, but no. Is there any chance I could bother you to come over? When you have some time, of course.”
“I’ll be right up.”
The line goes dead.
