His jaw firmed but he nodded.

  “Let’s do it.” He went to the end of the bed and lifted the top mattress up into the air. She looked underneath, but there was nothing there. “It’s clear.”

  He lowered the mattress, then squatted and lifted both the mattress and box spring in the air.

  She gave a startled squeak, but raced to the front and grabbed the envelope tucked up against the frame on the underside. “I’ve got something.”

  He waited until she was clear before replacing both. He held out his hand for the envelope. She gave it to him and waited. He opened it up and pulled out the letter inside. Something fluttered to the floor.

  *

  Morgan opened the letter. A muscle worked in his jaw as he started to read. He collapsed on the end of the bed and muttered, “Shit.”

  Then read out loud.

  Dear brother. Not sure if you are going to be reading this or if it’s going to hit the garbage like so many others have done over the years. I’m an asshole. In my days when I’d like to be a better person, I write to you. Then I realize I’m never going to change and throw them out. Once again I’m full of remorse. I know it too will pass.

  I was a shit to you about Jazz. I just couldn’t leave it alone. You had what I wanted. What I deserved, and what I’d been working on long and hard. Then one day you come breezing into town to visit me, take one look at her, and that’s it – bam – she falls at your feet. It’s not like I wasn’t getting pieces on the side while I was working on her, but it just pissed me off, you know?

  Everything in your life has been easy. Mine – shit.

  Still, I shouldn’t have done my damnedest to break you two up. She was never going to be mine. But that didn’t mean I was happy to have her be yours.

  Like I said, I’m a shit.

  But this time I might have crossed the line. Because someone I was screwing literally at the time I was screwing up your life didn’t like my methods. Now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that they were pissed at me, but more they were pissed at her. Because really… given a fair shot, I’d have dropped every bitch in my vicinity to grab Jazz, and everyone around me knew it. There were also many people panting after you. Both sexes by the way.

  Do you tango in both directions? I just can’t see my brother doing that. But who knows?

  I know I’m going to toss this letter anyway, so I can say whatever the hell I want to. Who knew what a wordsmith I’d become? I don’t know if I should tell you the truth or not. I figured I would, but not until I was ready to pull out of town. So this letter is kind of a prelude. If I find the guts to say this to your face, awesome… maybe fun even. But you’re likely to beat the shit out of me, and I’m really not into you ruining my pretty face.

  So this letter will have to suffice. I’m thinking this weekend is going to be my ticket out of here. I found a stash of cash – of course the owner doesn’t know about it. But whatever, I need it to get the hell out of town. So the end of the month is it.

  I might see you before I go, but if not and this ends up in your mailbox, you’ll know that I haven’t changed. But I’m young and there are years ahead of me to grow and improve.

  Snicker. As if. Life is way too much fun for me to ruin it with all that honor and moral code. Like seriously? You’ve been drilling that down my throat since forever – it didn’t take back then, and it sure as hell isn’t going to take now.

  Besides, only the good die young. And I’m going to live to a ripe old age and screw as many people as I can in the process.

  After all, who’s going to stop me?

  Not you.

  See you later, brother.

  Billy.

  Chapter 16

  Jazz sat down beside Morgan, her mind consumed with the vicious disregard for another person’s feelings. “He’s really an asshole, isn’t he?”

  Morgan jerked.

  “I’m sorry, but given this letter, it’s a little hard to have much sympathy. I’m sorry for you.” She snorted. “Hell, I’m sorry for me.”

  It was also the proof that Morgan had been telling her the truth all along. She hadn’t needed it, but it was nice to have. But she hurt for Morgan. To have your own brother betray you was one thing, but to have him mock you at the same time… well, she hadn’t hated Billy before, but with the ravaged look on Morgan’s face, she sure as hell did now. She hoped he rotted in hell to boot. She lifted a shaky hand to her face.

  God, she hated this. She wasn’t normally an ugly person inside, but Billy had that ability to bring out the worst in her. And for the first time, she realized that if he had been able to do that to her with no effort, it would have been easy for him to twist up Morgan, who he understood so well and used his love to his own advantage.

  She reached over to stoke Morgan’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?” Morgan’s laugh was harsh, pained. “He hurt you as much as me, and for what?”

  “For fun I think. For revenge definitely, and because he could.”

  Morgan shook his head as he stared down at the letter. “I really hate to say it, but I think this has to go to the cops. It’s motive for his murder.”

  “I would. Billy has already done the damage. Showing them this isn’t going to hurt us more. But it might help.”

  “He says he has a stash of money. What if the guy he took it from is the one who killed him?”

  “And what if he thinks we have the money now?” she asked in alarm. “That’s not good.”

  “It’s not here, is it?” Morgan slowly perused the room. “I can’t see why it would be.”

  “Not that we’ve found, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it was here.” She stood up. “We also haven’t searched the place entirely. And what’s the chance the cops found it?”

  “They’d have asked us about the money.” He stood up and looked around. “I’ll empty the closet.”

  “And I’ll search the bathroom.” She headed to the bathroom and opened drawers and cupboards. She had no idea how much cash they were talking about. Maybe it was in the bank instead. That’s what she would do. However, if she had lots to put in, that had to be done in such a way as to not raise any alarms. Then she got it.

  “Morgan,” she stood in the doorway to the bedroom and called to him. “If it’s not here, maybe he had a safety deposit box.”

  Morgan poked his head out from the closet and considered it. “That’s possible. But almost too sensible for him.”

  Damn, he was right. Still… it was something that maybe the police could search for.

  “We’ll keep it in mind in case there are any keys close by.”

  Keys. She frowned. She’d seen a keyring somewhere. But where? “I actually thought I saw a set, but it didn’t strike me as odd.” She headed back to the small kitchen. Hanging on the side of the cupboard was a set of keys, but there was a single one hanging on the side. “There are keys here.” She brought them over to Morgan.

  He took the set from her and flicked through them. “These two are the suite. This one is his bike. And I have no idea what this one is for.”

  She looked over at it. Then snorted. “What do you want to bet it’s for your house?”

  “It had better not be.” He dug into his own pocket and pulled out his key chain. Flicking through to his house key, he held the two up side by side. “Shit.”

  “Been noticing anything missing lately?”

  He glanced over at her. “Yeah, a few things, but nothing major.”

  She nodded. “He’s probably been going in and out for awhile.”

  Morgan nodded, but he was staring down at the other keys on Billy’s ring. He held out his hand and said in a quiet voice, “Let me see your house key.”

  She gasped. “What?” But she dug into her purse and pulled out her house keys. She handed him the correct key and he held the two up together into the light.

  They were the exact same.

  *

  Morgan stared at the evidence before him, his mind struggling to come up with something – anything – that would explain why his brother had a copy of Jazz’s house key. He wanted to punch someone – preferably his brother for having it.

  “I did not give it to him,” she said, her voice faint.

  He held out his arm, loving the way she raced in.

  “God, Morgan. How many times has he been in my house?”

  Too damn many times, but he kept his opinion to himself. His brother had caused enough trouble. Jazz had always been happy and relaxed, open about life, but he suspected that time of innocence. “We don’t know that he ever went in, but this is proof that he could have and wouldn’t have given a shit about invading your privacy if he’d wanted to.”

  “I don’t think he’d have the keys and not go in. He wouldn’t be able to resist,” she said. She reached out and touched the full ring of keys. “How many other houses does he have keys to?”

  “Who knows?” he frowned as he studied another key. Then groaned. “Damn. This one is likely to my garage.”

  “Why would he have one to that?”

  “Parts and tools. I actually only started to lock the garage up after finding bits and pieces moved around. I was blaming the neighborhood kids. But instead it was my own damn brother. Shit.”

  How the hell had his brother gone so wrong? And if he’d done this, what else had he done? This was completely against everything Billy had been raised to respect.

  And somehow along the way, he’d taken his own path into this perverted mindset. Had he been spying on Jazz too? Hiding in her house and watching her sleep? Or had this been a key for just in case…

  Although just in case of what, he couldn’t imagine.

  Damn. How had Morgan not seen the problems? And maybe more importantly – how had Billy gone so wrong?

  Chapter 17

  “Your shop… please tell me there isn’t one there for my shop.” Her heart damn near froze at the idea, but she wouldn’t put it past him. She needed to know her shop was safe, but was it? If he had keys to her home, it was easy enough to get keys to her business. And why? What did he hope to achieve from that?

  “What do you think he’s been doing with them all?” she asked, hating the size of the key ring. “And does he have more?”

  “No idea, but he wouldn’t have been doing anything good.” He handed her back her keys then offered her Billy’s ring. “Do you want to take a look while I see if he has more lying around?”

  Wordless, she accepted the stack and studied the code on top. Morgan’s house key was labeled as MH, his garage as MG. Her house was JH. So that was a clear enough system. She systematically went through the keys and tried to match them up. That she found RH made her blood run cold. She could almost understand PH as he’d been sleeping on and off again with Perl, but did she have any idea that he’d had a key to her place? Then again, Perl’s sex life was wild and fairly broad, so maybe she handed them out to many men.

  Then she found it. ATJ. All That’s Jazz. The store.

  Shit. She found a chair and sat down heavily, trying to understand the implication of Billy having a key to her world, both business and professional. Besides creepy as hell and making her feel even more violated, how was that possible? And had he caused any damage?

  How could she know? Did he just need to know he could go and snoop any time, or did he have a reason for gaining access to her business? They had a safe, and they did not write the combination down anywhere, but she’d be checking that as soon as she could. In fact, she wanted to go from here directly to the shop in case something had been stolen.

  How had he gotten these? Was it so easy that anyone who wanted one could just go and get one made? She knew they had security systems being installed soon, but shit…

  Morgan came back to stand in front of her. He reached out a hand. “What’s wrong?”

  She held up the key. “I’m afraid it’s for my business.”

  He shook his head. “Damn. I’m sorry, Jazz.”

  “I want to go and check. See if he might have done something… anything that I am not going to like.” When she finally registered his deep silence, she added, “He’s already done it, right?”

  “It’s possible. It’s also possible that someone else has a copy of these keys.”

  “Damn it,” she whispered. “This is so not fair.”

  “I know you don’t keep copies of the dragon tattoo, but is there any chance that there would be anything that would allow someone breaking into your shop to find that image?”

  “I know there was the original image, but I changed it a lot.”

  “Do you know when you changed it and if you still have the original?”

  She shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “I suggest while we’re at the shop, you might want to take a good look around. At the moment, it appears as if Billy was an integral part of whatever the hell is going on, and it could very well lead back to your business.”

  She glared at him. “And that can’t be.”

  *

  “It doesn’t matter how you feel about it. What’s important right now is damage control and that we find the shooter. Then we’ll have to backtrack and figure out what else my brother did.”

  She nodded. “Do we give the keys to the cops?”

  “Not until we check them and find out for sure that they open the places we believe they do.”

  “Right, then we had better get moving. It’s damn late.”

  And she strode out of the dingy suite.

  Morgan took a little longer, leaving after a long sad look at the remnants of his brother’s life. The landlord was waiting for him when they came out. “When can you clear the place?”

  Morgan held his temper in check. “When does the lease run out?”

  The landlord squinted up at him. “He paid monthly. So he’s got another week to get out.”

  “Then hopefully the police will give the okay for it to be cleared out by then.”

  And he turned and walked away, ignoring the landlord’s spluttering. It wouldn’t take him long to confirm from the cops when he could get the place emptied. Morgan would need to deal with this mess eventually, but it wasn’t a process he was looking forward to.

  Chapter 18

  The streets were silent as they ripped toward the store. Jazz had debated telling Roxy about the key issue but figured they’d better check it out and make sure of the facts first. It would be horrible to tell everyone then find out the keys didn’t actually open what they thought they opened.

  When Morgan finally pulled up to the front of the shop, her mood had darkened to border on panic. She could see the lights in the back room on. A system they’d used for years. Now she had to rethink that.

  But any thinking now was taxing her brain to the breaking point. She was tired, emotionally drained, and damn sore. Her shoulder was killing her. She wanted a hot bath where she could soak the injured muscles. A hot tub would be a blessing. She should mention it to Morgan. They hadn’t spoken of what they were doing as a couple after this mess, but she couldn’t imagine them not living together. And that meant she had to decide what to do with her house. It was too small for both of them. So rent it or sell it. She had no idea. The key had opened the back door to her kitchen. The same doorway where she’d been shot. Her backyard was private, so he could have used the key at any number of times to get in and not be seen. And up until now, she’d have thought it was secure.

  Naïve. Then again, who’d have thought that people like Billy were out there?

  Stupid.

  She walked up to the storefront and waited while Morgan pulled out the right key. He handed it to her. She looked at it, then him, then at the door, and pushed it in and turned the handle.

  The door opened with an almost silent click.

  “Shit,” Morgan said beside her.

  But she was already walking in a steady line back to the security panel to turn the alarm off.

  When she returned to the room, Morgan stood in the center waiting. “Does anyone else know the security code?”

  Perl and Roxy, anyone else?

  She paused. “Not likely.”

  “So even if he had the key, it wasn’t a guarantee that he could get in.”

  “However, the alarm would of off if the code wasn’t entered with a few minutes. I do know that he was in an on-again, off-again relationship with Perl, so I’m not sure what it would take to get the code from her.”

  “Chances are good that’s why he’d been sleeping with her in the first place.”

  She studied the flat look on his face. “You are not responsible,” she said. “Billy was his own worst enemy.”

  “He might have been, but having had a major hand in raising him, I feel guilty.” He waved a hand around her shop. “Look at all the shit he was into.”

  “And maybe this was the extent of it,” she cried out. “It could be so much worse.”

  At his glare, she snapped, “He wasn’t a wife beater, a child predator, or any number of other nasty things. He was a sneak and a thief and yes, that’s bad enough, but you are not responsible for what he was or what he was on his way to becoming.”

  He nodded, a weary motion that told her clearly how very fed up he was, too. Well, so was she. She walked through her store, trying to figure out what someone of Billy’s ilk would find interesting. She turned on her computer and realized it was already on. She’d been in and hadn’t shut it down herself. That might be a problem right there. She imagined she’d done it a time or two. Billy would, in theory, only need to have his timing be lucky once, and he could get into so many more of her secrets.

  The monitors turned on and the screens came up.

  She sat back in shock. There was that same damn image from the bathroom mirror. It had been sent to her email. She already knew that, but someone had opened her email here at the store. The most likely of those would be Roxy or Perl. But why?