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"Safe,"she whispered, more to herself than to Skunk, who responded with a nuzzleagainst her palm.
Morgan droppedSkunk's leash and watched as he made a beeline for his water bowl. He drankwith loud, sloppy gulps, and she couldn't help but smile at the sight, herhardened exterior cracking just a little. After a life framed by iron bars,every innocent pleasure Skunk took from the world was a reminder of what shehad fought so hard to regain.
She peeled offher jacket. Moving to the couch, she sank into the cushions and patted the spotnext to her. Skunk didn’t need a second invitation; he jumped up, curled besideher, and laid his head on her lap. She ran her fingers through his short fur, findingcomfort in the solidity of his presence.
As she strokedSkunk, her mind replayed the earlier confrontation with Thomas. His handsomefeatures masked intentions that were anything but pure. She pictured himwalking toward her with that infuriatingly calm demeanor, offering her a dealwith the devil himself. Could she really consider working alongside someone whohad kidnapped her dog and played games with her life?
"Trust is aluxury, boy," she muttered, scratching Skunk behind the ears. The pit bulllet out a soft groan of contentment.
Thomas knewthings about her father—things that could either vindicate her or condemn herfurther. But the fact that Thomas was connected to her past, to her father'ssecret life within the FBI, and to Mary Price's death, meant that there werelayers to this story she hadn't even begun to peel back.
"Can Iafford to play his game?" she questioned aloud, though the question wasrhetorical. Trusting Thomas was akin to stepping onto a minefield blindfolded,but the information he dangled before her was too crucial to ignore. Whatchoice did she have when the path to the truth was laced with treachery?
A growl rumbledin Skunk's chest as if sensing her turmoil. Morgan leaned down, pressing herforehead against his. In his eyes, she saw only loyalty and love—qualities shefeared had become foreign to her own nature.
"Whatever ittakes, Skunk," she said softly, "Whatever it takes to find thetruth." Her words were a whisper, a barely audible promise in the quiet ofher living room, but they carried the weight of a vow.
Her mind wanderedback to Derik. Ever since Thomas called her and requested a meetup, Morganhadn't thought to clue him in. There was a time when Morgan was sure she'dnever trust Derik Greene again, whether he was her partner in the FBI or not,but ultimately, she'd found out that he had been blackmailed before too. By themen who'd framed her. By the men who Thomas seemed to know.
Derik had workedhard to regain Morgan's trust, and they'd been getting there again. She decidedthe least she could do was clue him in so she didn't have to carry any burdensof truth.
Morgan's fingerstrembled slightly as she keyed in Derik's number, the illuminated screen of herphone a stark contrast to the dimly lit room. At the very least, she had totell Derik about Skunk's safety; he'd been worried sick, and it was only rightthat he heard the good news directly from her.
"Morgan,"came Derik's voice, tinged with a mixture of relief and annoyance. "Wherehave you been? I've been trying to reach you."
"Skunk issafe," Morgan interjected before he could continue his rebuke. "I'vegot him back."
"Damn,Morgan, why didn't you call me? I would've—" Derik's frustration waspalpable even through the phone.
"Because itwas something I had to do alone," she cut in, her voice low but firm. Thechoice had been hers; involving Derik might have complicated matters further.She was fine—more than fine now that Skunk was home.
"Fine,"Derik sighed, and she could almost see him running a hand through his slickblack hair, a tired gesture of surrender. "Just... glad you're bothokay."
Morgan exhaledslowly, bracing herself for the next part of the conversation. "Derik,there's more. It's about my father."
"Yourdad?" Derik's concern was immediate, as if sensing the weight behind herwords.
"Thomasknows things," she began reluctantly, the words feeling like lead on hertongue. "He knows who framed me for murder."
"Who?"Derik's voice sharpened with urgency.
"He won’tsay. Not yet. He wants me to work with him first." Morgan's admission feltlike a betrayal, not just to Derik, but to herself. To agree to Thomas' termswas to dance with the devil himself.
"Work withhim? Morgan, are you out of your mind?" Derik's voice rose, incredulous."The man's a snake."
"I know whathe is," she snapped. "But he has information that I need. About myfather, about everything."
"Can't wefind another way? This is risky, even for you," Derik pressed, but Morganwas resolute.
"Sometimeswe don't get to choose our path," she said quietly, a cold resolvesettling over her. Her father's secrets were a shadow she'd lived under for toolong. If working with Thomas could bring her answers, then she'd walk throughfire to get them.
Morgan paced thelength of her living room as she talked. Each step was a measured attempt tostave off the panic that clawed at her insides. She had traded one prison foranother: the cold, hard cell for a labyrinth of deceit and dark family secrets.
"Derik,"she said, her voice low but resolute, "I have to do this. I need to knowthe truth about my father. Don't you understand?"
"Damn it,Morgan!" Derik's frustration crackled through the line. "You'rewalking into the lion's den. Thomas is untrustworthy—you said soyourself."
"Trust hasnothing to do with it," she retorted, her gaze falling on Skunk, who laycurled up on the couch, blissfully unaware of the human complexities swirlingaround him. "This is about closure, about justice. I can handleThomas."
