Chapter Text
"See, this is the dangerous thing about doing a 'quick grocery run' with you," Adam teased, his arms full of bags as they headed into the house. "It soon turns into a full grocery run, and I don't have the kids here to help me carry it."
"You know full well it would have turned into an even fuller grocery run with them here, and you cannot tell me you were prepared for the 'let's try this' chorus this late at night." Morgan, carrying her own, smaller load of grocery bags, held the door open for him. She was egalitarian like that. "And which of us went crazy in the cheese section? Because it wasn't me."
Adam raised an amused eyebrow at her as he set down the bags. "You didn't even see what I did in the cheese section, because you snuck off when you thought I was distracted. You hid whatever it was you got between the laundry detergent and paper towels."
Morgan stopped, narrowing her eyes at him. She'd thought she was being sneakier than that. "You peeked."
"I did not," he said serenely. "I decided it was better for my future happiness if I was able to maintain plausible deniability."
She grinned, relieved he was at least willing to play pretend. "That was wise of you." Finding the right bag, she pulled out the package and tossed it to him. "Because if you hadn't, you wouldn't have gotten these."
He caught it, then read the label. "Chipless Chips Ahoy." His eyes lit. "I didn't know these existed."
"They won't for long. They're a lead-up to some weird promotional thing where they're hoping people will vote on a new flavor of chip. Ava told me about them." She shrugged. "I know they're not as good as actual chipless chocolate chip cookies, but—"
"They're perfect." He cut her off with a lingering, very thorough kiss. "Thank you."
"And that was an excellent 'you're welcome,'" Morgan replied dreamily, already scheming. She was a practical woman, true, but it turned out bringing temptation home with you on a regular basis actually made it much harder not to give into it. "You know, we could leave the rest of the groceries in the car for now, and I'm sure the groceries on the counter would keep for a measly hour or so."
He gave her an amused look. "There's just one more load in the car, and if I get that while you put things away I'm sure we can get this taken care of in record time." Then it turned heated, making Morgan shiver in a most pleasant way. "After that, I would be happy to listen to whatever you have in mind."
She grinned. "Looking forward to it."
When he went outside, she hurried to put everything else away. By the time she heard the front door open and close again, she was pleased to see she'd made a significant dent. "If you get started on what you're carrying," she called out, not turning around. "We should be—"
"You and I will be having a little chat, actually."
Morgan froze at the strange man's voice, slowly setting down the milk and turning around to face the person who had just entered her house. She'd only seen him once before, in the unidentified picture Lieutenant Soto had found in Roman's backpack, but she'd also heard his description from Arthur before the ambulance took him to the hospital.
He was holding a huge hunting knife in one hand, dripping with blood.
It felt like all the air had been punched out of her lungs, the word slipping out completely against her will. "Adam."
Seeing where her eyes had gone, the man gave her an overly dramatic long-suffering look and gestured with the knife. "I know, I know. It's overly dramatic. But it's so good at quickly and effectively communicating just how much danger whoever I'm talking to is in."
Terror and grief had Morgan by the throat, but Morgan refused to have a panic attack like she did in that stupid panic room. If she was going to have any chance, if Adam was going to have any chance, she needed to keep her head together. "I assume you're going to kill me next," she said in a shaky voice, slipping her phone out of her pocket without looking and sliding it onto the counter behind the milk. She let herself act just as scared as she felt, hoping it would be a distraction. "Slowly, so you can torture me for the location of the backpack?"
The man smirked. "I heard you were a clever one. Hate to break it to you, lady, but you won't be up to nearly as much torture as you think. I won't kill you, though, at least not yet. I'll need you to help fish Roman out of wherever he's gone to ground."
Morgan swallowed, pressing Lieutenant Soto's contact blindly. She'd practiced the trick during the whole thing with Clarke, just in case, and knew exactly where both Soto's and Adam's contacts were.
The thought of never being able to call Adam again felt like the knife was already in her chest.
She cleared her throat, knowing she needed to keep him talking. "Why? He doesn't have the backpack anymore."
The man's expression turned cold. "The little bastard knows more than what's in the backpack. I wouldn't have wasted so much manpower chasing him otherwise."
"You didn't go after him yourself?" Morgan asked, slowly taking off her heels. "What are you doing here, then?"
"Once I knew the backpack had ended up back in Roman's hometown, how could I resist?" The smirk was back, but his eyes were still empty. "The fact that I had to personally check on one of the city council people on my payroll was just a bonus."
She hoped like hell Soto had heard that. "You're not afraid I'm going to pass that little tidbit onto one of my friends at the LAPD?"
He gave her a mocking, artificially resigned look. "I'm afraid, Miss Gillory, that you're not going to get the chance."
Then he lunged.