“He was sketchy about the details at best,” Deke said with mock regret. “You can feel free to provide details. Or use me to reenact anything particularly juicy.”
Jack whipped around in his seat and burned a furious, quelling glare at Deke.
“Or not,” said the blond giant.
Morgan’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two of them. What in the heck was going on? Jack was acting almost…possessive. She held in a snort. Yeah, as if she mattered to a guy like Jack. To him, she’d just be a plaything.
“No chance you were too intoxicated to remember having sex with Reggie?” Jack asked.
“No. I woke up the next morning with my panty hose still on.”
Jack relaxed a degree or two and looked at his pal. “Anything else, man?”
Deke’s reply was suddenly very businesslike. “Not at the moment. I’ll take the originals of the photos out for forensic analysis, to see if this guy left behind any prints or other clues.”
“That sounds unlikely,” she said.
“It is,” Deke admitted with a shrug. “But you never know. Maybe he had a careless moment, or never believed you’d try to have them analyzed. I won’t know anything for a few days. But be patient. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” He patted her hand.
Suddenly, Jack stood. His chair scraped across the hardwood floors, ripping into the early morning quiet. His entire body was tense as he slapped Deke on the back.
“Let’s go discuss business.”
Deke hesitated, appearing to fight a grin. Morgan had the feeling he was completely amused by the demand.
“Okay.” He turned to Morgan. “Nice to meet you.”
When he extended his hand across the table, Morgan barely had time to shake it before Jack herded him down the hall to the door, unlocked it, and pushed him through. She watched them disappear with a frown. What in the hell was up with Jack? #
Jack resisted the urge to slam the door behind them. He also resisted the urge to plow his fists into Deke’s face—but that took a lot more effort.
What in the hell is wrong with me?
“Okay, whatever it is, spill it,” Deke demanded, sitting in the chair beside the computer workstation.
Jack didn’t pretend to misunderstand.
He sighed and plopped down into his own chair. Where should he start? The tangled tale only got more complicated with every minute that passed. Revenge, lust, attempted murder, sex that didn’t just rock his world, but rocked his soul—all in the last two days.
But like every story, Jack figured he’d better start at the beginning.
“My ex-wife was having a fling with another man before she left.”
“You mentioned that once after about your sixth hurricane that weekend in New Orleans.”
“His name was Brandon Ross.”
Deke frowned. “Brandon Ro— the Brandon that Morgan is engaged to?”
Jack rested his elbows on his knees and peered up at his friend. “The very same.”
“I’d say it’s a huge coincidence that you wound up with your enemy’s woman under your protection and under your roof— and unless I’m totally off-base here—in your bed. But I know you too well to believe in a coincidence that big.”
“I planned it,” Jack confirmed. “Everything to the last detail. I was going to seduce her, then f**k her, and rub that fact in Brandon’s face, the way he rubbed it in mine.”
Deke whistled. “Ballsy, man. Crappy but ballsy. So what happened?”
Jack stood, paced the small windowless room. When had it gotten so damn small in here? It had never bothered him before.