Page 69 of Agency
“Exactly.”
“And the kids aren’t trying to have his mental health questioned in the courts?”
“They do that, they’ve got a whole other set of problems with investors. Things are shaky enough due to the stroke.”
“Good point.”
Pushing my discarded clothes into his hands, I went to step past Morgan, but he put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. When I turned back around, he was holding both the key, and the cuffs.
I sighed. “Isn’t this against some rules against torture?”
“No, but sleep deprivation is. And the only way you get to go to sleep in that bed is if you’re cuffed behind your back. Per Jericho.”
“Fine. I’d been wondering what he whispered to you down in the living room. Fucking Jericho.” Rolling my eyes for effect, I turned away from him and brought my hands around back for better access, to exactly where I wanted them to be. “So who hired me, then?” I asked with a backwards glance as he locked me in. “One of the kids?”
“That’s my guess. Add in another heir, and what do you get?”
“Less of a share of the estate when he passes. One-half going to one-third.”
“Precisely.”
“You know,” I said as I went over to sit on the bed, “you probably should have waited until I’d undressed before cuffing me back up.” Raising one booted foot to him, I said in a sing-song voice: “Can’t untie your shoes with your hands tied behind your back.”
Sighing, he came over and dropped to one knee. “So, to find our mole, we’ve just got to find out who hired you.”
“Well, it’s one of the kids, right?” I asked as he unlaced and took off my extended boot, before moving to the next. “You know you’re not going to be able to do this legally, right? However they paid, it’s not going to be traceable, or provable.”
“You’re probably right,” Morgan said, bending down to unlace my other boot. “Best we can do now, though, is present another target to scatter your employer’s attention.”
“About that,” I said. “They’re going to come after me, Morgan. Even if Joergensen gets told to back off, he’s still going to keep trying to track me down. He’s a terrier.”
Morgan didn’t respond as he pulled off and tossed my boot aside. He didn’t even look up at me, as if ignoring my presence for the moment might solve the question of what to do with me.
“You guys are going to have to figure something out.”
“Yeah,” he replied, finally glancing up at me. “Yeah, I know. Can’t really take you to the cops. Not yet. And any chain of custody on the evidence is broken as fuck after our having to bug out of the city.” Beginning to peel off my socks, he averted his eyes. “But that’s up to Jericho to decide, and not me.”
“Could always just let me go,” I muttered.
“Not happening. I like you, Ambyr, and maybe even trust you with the publicly available details of our court case. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you out into the wild without my boss’s say-so.”
“Fine,” I groaned, laying back on the bed as he went to stand. “Get my pants?”
He rolled his eyes.
“Oh, come on!” I said, exasperated. “You’re already making me sleep in cuffs, which is totally against some article of the Geneva Convention. Least you can do is help me get as comfortable as I’m going to get.”
“Fine,” he growled. “But you could have done this in the bathroom.”
“And make you think I was parading myself in front of you in just panties and a tight tee shirt? No way! I’d hate for you to assume I was trying to influence your decision-making capabilities.”
Sighing, Morgan undid my pants, then began to yank them down over my butt and thighs. Pulling them all the way off my legs, he tossed them on top of my boots.
“Happy?”
“Yes,” I said with a nod. “But now you need to tuck me in.” I even stuck out my lower lip for emphasis.
He rolled his eyes, to which I responded by rolling onto my side and wiggling my fingers, saying, “Remember?”
