He rubbed a hand over his face. He was tired. Tired of the filth, of the pain . . . He looked to Morgan’s closed door. And he was tired of shattered lives. Unclipping his gun and shoulder holster, he set them on the coffee table. Picking up his briefcase, he took out the laptop and booted up. He knew she was Morgan Gaelord, but he wanted to know more about Simon. She’d mentioned June? But she’d been in Prague with the Simon idiot. Hell, make it a year. He logged on to the website he needed, typed in his password and clicked and typed his way to searching for more information on the woman known as Morgan Gaelord.He didn’t learn much more than he already knew, as he’d practically memorized her file before the operation.The water shut off and he sat still and quiet, waiting, hoping she didn’t come in and want to know what he was doing.Locks disengaged before she finally came out of the bathroom and stepped back into her room. He heard the click of her bedroom door. No problem.
