Around the World in 80 Men Series: Boxed Set 21-30 (13 page)

She
felt a tug on her arm and faced forward again. Man number one had
begun to walk and that was her cue to keep up pace or she'd likely be
dragged right through the Las Vegas airport.

She
kept her mouth closed all the way through the parking lot, up to the
point of reaching a solid black car with deeply tinted windows. “I'm
not getting in there until you te...!” The man released her arm
and nearly pushed her into the back seat of the car, not answering
her question. Morgan gave him another dirty look as he closed the
door, then moved quickly across the back seat of the car, away from
the door he'd just shut. The sound of the trunk told her that her
bags had been stored back there and the hope of getting to her phone
was long gone.

I
get a phone call right? People who go to jail...I've seen it...they
get a call. I'll call Julianne, she'll know what to do. Shit, what if
they already have her?
Morgan's
heart sunk. If it were all a set up, she knew they had probably
reached her boss first.
Felix, he'll get her out!
The
young woman was terrified. She'd never been in trouble in her life.
Jail? Do they send prostitutes to jail? She didn't even know. Were
they just going to question her?
They don't have proof of
anything. I haven't done anything!

“I
haven't done anything!” Morgan yelled again, as the two men
climbed into the front seat of the car. “Tell me, what's this
about?”

“You
know exactly what this is about,” man two answered with a smile
that she wanted to punch off of his face.
No, you can't
punch cops.
Something didn't
seem right to her. Of course, she'd never been in that kind of
situation, but weren't there supposed to be rights read to her or
something? Why were they undercover?

“No,
I don't,” she replied, still angry. Her hands came together on
her lap and she gripped her own fingers so tightly, it hurt. Getting
out of jail wasn't going to be a problem, even if she did get put in.
She knew, if she had to, a number of men would be happy to bail her
out...but then what?
What about Julianne? What about her
job, my job? What am I going to do?
Morgan
exhaled loudly, having no idea how long she'd been holding her
breath. The minutes passed like hours as the car moved along
unfamiliar roads that she wouldn't recognize. Finally, after twenty
minutes, she felt the car roll slowly to a stop.

Morgan
squinted into the dark window, it looked like a line of buildings in
front of her, but she couldn't be sure. Both men climbed out of the
car, then she heard the trunk open, and after a few moments, it
closed again. She sat there for nearly five minutes in silence before
man one came to her side to let her out. “Let's go,” he
told her, grabbing her arm once again.

When
she was standing, she finally had the chance to look around. They'd
pulled up behind a long stretch of buildings, just as she'd
suspected. “Is...this the police station?” Morgan stood
her ground, and demanded an answer before taking another step. Her
intentions weren't as strong as the hand that moved to her back and
assisted her in taking the final steps through the back door.

Inside,
she stood in a narrow hallway as man number one opened another door
to her right, then he stood to the side and motioned for her to
enter. “Have a seat, we'll be with you shortly.” Morgan
nearly stomped into the room, mentally sorting every detail to give
to Julianne, Finlay, an attorney, or all of the above.

She
didn't have a seat as was suggested, instead, Morgan paced inside the
small room as she tried to reason with the events up to that point.
It was a set up, most likely an elaborate sting operation.
There
probably isn't even a man named Clayton Shaw. A fake profile, a fake
name, and a fake picture. Fuck! How did he get a green flag?!
She
stood in front of the single chair in the room, an old brown metal
chair that didn't look inviting under any circumstances.
Oh
Julianne! It's you that they'll want, not one of your girls. Please
be safe... please.. please be safe.
She felt tears begin to burn
as she let out a long sigh, then sat on the metal seat in a defeated
flop that echoed throughout the otherwise empty room.

For
the following five minutes, Morgan sat in the brightly lit room and
fought the tears that had taken over completely. No matter what she
tried to think of, absolute fear of what could be happening to her
boss had prevented her from stopping the out pour of emotions. Five
minutes. An eternity to a tormented mind. She was past the point of
consoling when she heard the door knob turn.

Morgan
didn't stand, questions that she knew he wouldn't answer didn't come
to mind, and the tears continued to fall as she stared down at her
hands that were clasped tightly on her lap. The man moved closer,
the sound of his shoes softly moving across the cheap linoleum
flooring didn't make her look up, nor did the realization that
someone else had joined them as well. It didn't matter. Twenty more
officers could have joined her, she didn't have anything left to put
up a fight, and her shoulders fell even more as the last bit of her
resolve had spilled down her cheeks.

“Morgan?”
A voice questioned her, but she still didn't look up. She couldn't
look at anyone. If they were to ask her questions, she was perfectly
content with talking to her hands. Or, she wouldn't answer anything
and wait for a lawyer. Yes, she'd keep her mouth shut.
I can't
risk telling them anything that would put Julianne into more harm.
“Ms. Holland.” It wasn't a question that time, it was
a statement. She gave him a slight nod. “How are you today?”

Pleasantries?
Are you fucking kidding me? How the hell do you think I
am!?
Morgan scoffed loudly, then shook her head back and forth and
squeezed her hands more tightly together. One foot wrapped around the
other and she brought them underneath the chair to prevent her legs
from shaking with nerves.

“Tell
me, how long have you...?” Morgan heard the door open again,
the sound making her wince. She had no idea how many people were in
the room at that point, but seeing them would only make it worse.

“You
made her fucking cry!” The new voice in the room finally forced
her eyes up. It was Clay...or...at least the guy from the photo on
the database. Morgan stood quickly, nearly knocking the chair out
from behind her and backed against the wall. “Morgan, I'm so
sorry,” the man who was or was not Clay spoke.

“What
the hell is going on?” Morgan wiped her cheek quickly and
brought her hands to her sides. “Who
are
you?”

“I'm
Clayton. This is Todd, that's Justin,” he told her, pointing at
the other two men in the room. Man one and man two had names, names
she didn't care to know. “They weren't supposed to take it this
far,” he told her, but his tone suggested that he was actually
talking to the other two men.

“Take
what too far? Am I under....is this...?”
A set up,
she
didn't finish the sentence.

“No,
you're not under arrest,” Clay shook his head, then walked
toward her. “My friends were just supposed to tell you that you
were being arrested and bring you here, I didn't mean to make you
cry.” He felt absolutely terrible.

Morgan
laughed. She laughed as the tears ran freely down her cheeks,
hysterical laughter that brought pain to her side. It was built up
stress that was finally released in a manic way. Then, when the
laughter was slowing down, she nodded slowly and took a step forward
toward Clay. “You. Are. An. Asshole.” Morgan poked her
finger into his chest, then pushed past him. On her way out of the
room, she shot the other two men a final dirty look, one that made
them feel terrible as well. When she was back out in the warm sun,
she stomped over to the black car and tried to pop the trunk. Locked.
She made her way to the driver's door, locked. “Fuck!”
All Morgan wanted to do was get her things and go.

“Morgan,
wait,” Clay was beside her in seconds and his hand moved to her
shoulder, but she turned away quickly and took a few steps back.

“Give
me my things.”

“You're
leaving?” He sounded shocked, which pissed her off even more.

“And
stay with someone who thinks
that
is funny? Do you have any
idea what that was like? I...I thought...” Morgan couldn't even
say what she had thought.

“I'm
so sorry, it was stupid. Please, stay. Let me make it up to you.”
He sounded sincere and his strong facial features were chiseled into
a genuine look of worry.

Morgan
thought about it for several moments, not saying a word in response.
The whole situation was bullshit, that's the only way her mind could
respond. A grown man, a
successful
grown man, playing
childish pranks with strangers just to get a laugh. Then, when the
mental smoke cleared, Morgan smiled. If he'd known her, it would
have been clear that it wasn't a smile of forgiveness, but one that
would have told him that practical jokes were one of her strong
suits, at least they were when she was a bit younger. He should have
been worried, but he wasn't, he was relieved... especially when she
finally spoke. “Mr. Shaw, you have some serious making up to
do.” Morgan was still furious, and she had no idea if she
wanted to stick around long enough to pay him back, but for right
then, all she could think about was getting to his home, and
retrieving her bags.

He
nodded quickly, then told her he'd be right back. The man ran inside
the back door again, then a few minutes later, he was back out, the
other two men following closely behind. Man one, Todd, spoke first.
“Morgan, I'm sorry. We got a little carried away.”

She
chewed her bottom lip, not knowing what to say. What she wanted to do
was rip them apart verbally for the mental hell they'd put her
though, but she had a feeling Clay had already done the job. Morgan
just nodded silently. Justin spoke up next and gave her an apology of
his own. His sounded a little more forced, but she nodded again and
looked to Clay.

“Can
we leave?” Clay smiled, then looked to Todd and asked him for
the keys to the car. The man handed them over and Clay looked back to
Morgan, then nodded toward the car. He shook his head at his friends,
a look of disapproval on his face, then followed Morgan. “Where
are my bags?” she asked as he opened the passenger door for
her.

“In
the back,” he told her. “It's a pretty short drive, but
if you need something now, I can...”

“No,”
Morgan said. She wanted to tell Angel what had happened, but then she
remembered...
Angel set me up too.
“It can wait.”
The whole 'you're being arrested' thing had taken over and she'd
completely forgotten about the text message Angel had sent her.
Morgan sighed loudly as she climbed into the passenger seat. So much
for having a great day.
Thanks, best friend.

Chapter
Two

“
I
live not far..,”

“Yeah,
you said that already.” Morgan cut him off, she didn't even
want to hear the man's voice right then, at least not until she had a
little more time to get her nerves under control.

Images
of Angel and Cedric laughing at her, along with the horrid joke by
her client, had quickly turned her into a woman on the verge of
something drastic. Clay nodded, and kept his eyes on the road as he
navigated through heavy Las Vegas traffic. He wanted to tell her
again that he was sorry, that the joke had been taken too far and it
was nothing like what he intended. He wanted to tell her that he was
immature and played pranks on everyone that he had ever been close
to, and yes, strangers as well. But he didn't, because he could see
Morgan's tears begin to pool in her light green eyes as she stared
straight ahead, seemingly looking at nothing at all.

She
wanted to see more of what they passed, especially the Pirate show
that was taking place outside of the beautiful, Treasure Island
casino, but her heart wouldn't allow her to look longer than a few
seconds. It would have been exciting, and she might even have asked
to stop so that she could get her camera, but even the lights and
sounds of the Vegas strip couldn't shake her mood.

Twenty
minutes, to a girl who just wanted to bury her head somewhere and get
all of her pain out at once, seemed like an eternity as Clay finally
pulled off the highway. One more mile through a barren landscape,
and they stopped in front of a small glass building. A guard stood
sentry in front of a large gate, one that would open as soon as Clay
waved to the man, and he pulled into a safe haven of multimillion
dollar homes in a community built just for the more fortunate in Sin
City.