Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6) - Melinda Leigh Page 0,40

at her. Instead, he swept the contents of her desk toward the wall. Morgan’s notepad and blotter skidded across the floor. The ceramic mug hit the whiteboard and shattered. Coffee dripped down the dry-erase board.

The childishness of the act sent a burst of anger through her.

Keeping her gaze on his, she chilled her voice and put on her best interview-an-alleged-killer face. When she had faced accused murderers as a prosecutor, the suspects had been handcuffed to a table and law enforcement officers had been watching her back. As a defense attorney, she had no protection. “This meeting is over.”

His gaze fell to her hand, still hovering over the butt of her weapon. He backed off, his weight shifting backward, but his scowl said his temper had not defused.

Mr. Olander studied her for a few heartbeats; then his mouth pressed into a disdainful line. “Fine. Bitch.”

With a curt nod, he spun on the heel of his work boot and stomped out of her office. Morgan wiped her palms on the sides of her legs. Relief loosened the muscles of her thighs. Needing air—and wanting to be sure he left the building—she followed him into the hall.

Lance was in the hallway, leaning on the wall just outside her office door. His posture was deceptively relaxed. His eyes practically bored holes into Olander as he passed. Olander quickened his steps and skirted around Lance. As a former cop, Lance was trained in defense and arrest tactics, and every inch of him was poised to attack. Lance was the alpha male, and Olander recognized his own inferior status in an instant.

But when the older man went out the front door, he slammed it hard.

“You’re back.” Morgan took a deep breath. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Mr. Olander?” Lance asked.

“Yes.” She turned to Lance, warmth filling her. “How long were you out here?”

“Long enough.” He assessed her, then leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. “We got back about five minutes ago.”

“You were listening at the door.” Morgan went back into her office, crouched, and began picking up broken pieces of ceramic. Lance brought the trash can closer and fetched napkins from her credenza. They cleaned up the mess together.

They stood, and Lance slung an arm around her shoulders. “Normally, I wouldn’t eavesdrop, but I was concerned. He was a belligerent ass.”

“I know.” Morgan tossed the shards into the trash can. She appreciated that he respected her ability to do her job.

“But the sound of shit literally hitting the wall was too much. I was this close to barging in and throwing him out of the building.” Lance demonstrated his patience by pinching his forefinger and thumb nearly together.

“I appreciate your self-control, and the fact that you stood outside the door.”

“I had my ear pressed to it,” he admitted. “But you handled him just fine.”

Sharp peered into the office. He looked bleary-eyed. “Is everything OK?”

“Mr. Olander came to see me,” Morgan said.

“Get anything interesting out of him?” Sharp squeezed his eyelids shut a few times, as if to clear his vision.

Morgan summed up her meeting in a few sentences. “The most interesting part of the conversation was that while Erik’s mother professed her son’s innocence, Mr. Olander never made the claim. Not once.”

“I don’t know if innocence is all that important to Mr. Olander.” Lance filled Morgan in on what they’d found at the farm.

Goose bumps lifted on Morgan’s arms. She was so disturbed, she didn’t even admonish them for breaking and entering. “If the weapons were illegal, maybe Erik’s wife knew about them. Maybe that’s why she was killed.”

“That would make sense,” Lance said. “Sharp left a message for his contact at the ATF.”

Morgan picked up her coat and bag. “Now I’m going home, but I won’t be long.”

“Thank you.” Sharp exited her office.

Lance’s gaze followed him. “He looks dead on his feet.”

“He needs sleep.” Morgan’s phone buzzed. She read the screen. She needed to schedule Lance’s wedding present for delivery. The wedding—and all the last-minute details that needed to be addressed—hadn’t entered her mind since Olivia had disappeared.

“Everything all right?”

She turned the phone away from him. “Yes.”

His brows lifted.

“Maybe you’re not the only one keeping a secret. Are you going to tell me where we’re going on our honeymoon?”

“Nope.”

Morgan shoved the phone into her pocket. “Then I’ll see you soon. Take care of Sharp. Text me if you need anything from home.”

Morgan needed energy. On the way home, she detoured to the bakery for fresh donuts. Fifteen minutes later, she was in