Save Your Breath (Morgan Dane #6) - Melinda Leigh Page 0,8

honest with her. You are a trial lawyer—and a damned good one at that. You don’t need to take every case you’re offered. You have other clients.”

“None of those are very challenging at the moment.”

“Every case doesn’t have to make headlines. That high school senior facing a month in jail for vandalism needs your help too. You need to listen to your instincts. If the case doesn’t feel right, there’s probably a reason.”

“You’re right.” Morgan finished her water and set the cup on the counter. “I have total control over which clients I accept, and routine cases are wonderful. I have no desire to work a hundred hours a week.”

“Damn right.” Lance turned to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “That’s the best part of being self-employed. I like being home for dinner with the kids.”

“So do I. Family dinners are important.”

Lance’s house had burned down six months before. He’d moved in with Morgan’s family and had bonded with her three young daughters. The girls had embraced him as their soon-to-be stepfather. Lance had even become the preferred bedtime story reader. He put serious effort into voice-acting every character, sometimes sending the girls into giggling fits that didn’t exactly encourage sleep.

The children didn’t miss their biological father the way Morgan did. Only her oldest, at age seven, had even the faintest memory of him. Morgan was glad her kids were happy. The thought of them not remembering their father made her sad, but she kept it to herself.

Lance let his fingertips slide down her arms until he was holding her hands. “We’re getting married in just over two weeks. We don’t have time for a long and complicated case.”

“No, we don’t.” Morgan put aside her morning meeting. She deserved to enjoy every moment of pre-wedding excitement. “Now tell me where we’re going for our honeymoon. I need to pack.”

“It will be warm.” Lance laughed. “And that’s all I’m telling you. The rest is a surprise.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Your sister will make sure you are adequately prepared.” Lance’s smile turned smug.

Before Morgan could protest about their secret honeymoon destination, the sharp, unmistakable sound of a gunshot came through the open window.

Chapter Four

The gunshot sent Lance’s hand to his sidearm. Pulling the weapon was a reflex. Tucking Morgan behind him was just as automatic. His brain knew she didn’t require his protection, but his heart didn’t care.

Morgan dropped to one knee and ducked her head below the level of the countertop, her own gun in her hand. She whispered, “Could you tell where the shot came from?”

Lance shook his head, duckwalked to the window, and peered over the ledge. The small rear yard appeared empty and quiet. Reaching up, he closed and locked the window. Then he turned and jogged in a crouch out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Morgan was right behind him.

“Sharp!” Lance called.

“In here.” Sharp’s voice came from his office. Lance and Morgan slipped into the room. The original living room of the duplex, Sharp’s office had a large window that overlooked the street. Lance’s boss, PI Sharp, was peering around the window frame, gun in hand, his lean face grim. As a result of a strict exercise regimen, a green and crunchy lifestyle, and pure stubbornness, the fifty-three-year-old retired police officer was in better shape than most college kids.

“Could you tell where it came from?” Lance asked.

“Out there.” Sharp nodded toward the street. “See anyone out back?”

“No.” Lance angled his body on the opposite side of the window. The tree-lined street was empty. “Have you seen anyone?”

“All I see is that van parked across the street in front of the accounting firm.”

Lance focused on the white minivan parked at the curb. Sunlight reflected off the windows. “I can’t see if anyone is inside the vehicle.”

“Should I call 911?” Morgan asked. “Are we sure it wasn’t a car backfiring?”

Sharp’s lean face creased. “Sounded like a gunshot to me, but it’s possible.” He headed for the door. “Let’s check it out.”

Lance followed Sharp. Looking over his shoulder at Morgan, he said, “Stay here and keep watch. Someone needs to be able to call the police.”

She nodded and took a position at the edge of the window.

In the hall, Sharp turned toward the back of the house. “We’ll go out the back door and circle around.”

In case there was a shooter outside, they wouldn’t want to walk out the front door.

They went into the kitchen. Lance checked the rear yard. Still empty. He moved into position behind his