Renegade

by Lora Leigh

  suspiciously.

  There were options. She could feel her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She could call one of her brothers.

  No. No way. Any of the three would freak out, call her parents, and she would end up in the hospital whether she wanted to be there or not. And her father would definitely call the police. He'd curse and yell at them when they showed their lack of concern. Her mother would be shocked. She knew most of the police officers in town by first name. There was no sense in allowing more of them to disappoint Mikayla's gentle mother.

  Jorrey Martin had cried last week when Mikayla had called to report a break-in attempt at the shop. No one had showed up. Her father had been forced to call and threaten them with a report to the state police.

  Not that that would help.

  The driver's side door opened and the huge form of the strange man was forced to release the catch on her seat, shoving it back the full length before he could fold his frame into the seat.

  "Address?" He turned to her as he pushed the key into the ignition and turned it on.

  Mikayla gave him her address quickly, then watched as he put the Jeep into gear and backed out of the parking space.

  "Know where that's at, do you?" she asked.

  She didn't live in Hagerstown. She'd bought her first house in the small town of nearby Williamsport.

  "Actually, I do. I just rented the house next to you this afternoon. I was waiting until tomorrow to move in." His teeth flashed in the dim glow of the dash lights as he glanced over at her. "Hell of a coincidence, huh?"

  She so did not believe in coincidence. The house beside hers was definitely for rent. The single-story brick and stucco, like her own, was set behind a screen of evergreen and decorative privacy pine.

  "And how do you intend to get back to your car?"

  "My Harley," he told her. "Call a cab and have it waiting on me when I get there. I'll see you safely inside your home; then I'll leave. I'm not moving into the house until tomorrow."

  "And you care why?"

  That didn't make sense. At the moment, Washington County and the surrounding area was rather divided over whether to kill her or to laugh at her. She had witnessed a murder and seen the murderer, and no one wanted to believe her because the murdered hadn't been well liked and the murderer was a powerful member of the community with an unbreakable alibi. And it seemed someone definitely wanted to shut her up.

  "Why wouldn't I care?" Nik asked as he pulled to a stop at the intersection. "Not all men are assholes, pretty girl."

  Her brows lifted. Pretty girl?

  Mikayla watched the traffic, her hands clenched desperately in her lap as she fought to hold on to her control. Fear was a wild creature inside her, barely contained. This was a stranger. He wasn't the man who had attacked her. If he had been, she would 39

  have been simply dead. His hands were huge, a fitting match to the extra tall, corded length of his body and his rough-hewn face.

  "I didn't say you or anyone else was an asshole." She touched the bruise she could already feel forming on her face. "Except the person who decided to use me for a punching bag tonight."

  "You went out without a purse or anything to steal; it's hard to believe it was a mugger," Nik commented. "Why do you think you were attacked?" Mikayla glanced at his profile before sighing tiredly. "You're not from around here, are you?"

  He chuckled at that. "Nope. Texas."

  "Figures." For some reason, it was hard to see him as a Texan, though. "Been here long?"

  "Long enough to rent a house." He grinned as he slid a look her way before returning to the traffic. "And you haven't answered my question." She bit her lip in indecision. "I might have made some people angry." She shrugged, feeling defensive. Angry.

  The store was thriving more from curiosity than from her designs. She no longer trusted friends to hold her secrets, because too many had repeated things she had confided to them. She had tried to play the game as Maddix Nelson was, keeping her reserve in public and trying to find the truth by talking to those she knew were connected to the foreman. But no one would talk to her. And Maddix had the perfect alibi. An evening business meeting with the chief of police and two of the members of the city council. It was an alibi she would have believed herself if she hadn't known better.

  "Might have?" Nik shot her another glance as he turned onto the interstate and headed for the exit to nearby Williamsport. "How did you 'might have' pissed someone off?"

  "Something I'd rather not talk about." Mikayla gave a quick shake of her head.

  "I'd rather know why you're here from Texas."

  "A job." In profile, the hard, sharp planes of his face held a wicked, sexy edge. The sight, the image of him, had a strange effect on her. Her stomach tightened in response; she could feel her heart racing. It was pounding against her chest, making her breathing short, as she became aware of a peculiar sensitivity within her body.

  "What kind of job? What do you do?" She sounded a little breathless, but she could excuse it. She had just been attacked. She'd been struck. God, her father had never even spanked her. That was the first time she had ever been struck in her life.

  "I'm in private security," Nik answered, his voice rasping along her senses, almost broken. It was one of the most arousing sounds she had ever heard.

  "What kind of private security? Like a bodyguard? A security guard?" She brushed back her hair as the aches of the strikes against her flesh began to actually hurt. At least nothing had been broken.

  "Installation of customized security systems in this case," he told her. "I'm good with electronics."

  "You said 'in this case'?" She lifted her hand slowly to the ache in her ribs. "Do you sometimes do other things?"

  "Bodyguard, deliveries. I'm pretty well rounded." He made the turn onto the exit, then headed through the small town Mikayla called home.

  40

  "So you're here to install personal security systems. Who are you working for?" She needed a distraction until she could get rid of him.

  "Privileged information," he drawled as he glanced back at her. "Sorry."

  "Not a problem." She shook her head as they drew closer to the house. A part of her regretted that the ride was almost over.

  She felt safe here with him, despite the fact that she didn't know anything about him.

  "You're hurting," he stated, his voice hardening as he pulled the Jeep slowly into her driveway and slid it into park before turning to look at her. She almost jerked her hand back from her ribs.

  "Some guy just knocked me around for the hell of it," she pointed out with an edge of bitterness. "Yeah, I'll have a few bruises."

  "I think you should go to the hospital," Nik suggested, his gaze intent as he stared back at her. "You could be seriously hurt and not know it." She shook her head. "It's bruises."

  "You don't know that, Mikayla," he chided her, his voice lowering. "It could be something far serious and you wouldn't know."

  "He slammed me against the Jeep and hit me in the face," she said, rejecting the idea. "There are no internal injuries or broken bones. I'm just going to be sore."

  "You're just going to have a bruise across the whole side of your face." He reached out then, his fingertips almost brushing against the ache in her cheek. "He should be killed for that alone."

  Mikayla's lips parted before she could control it, her heart speeding up, racing until she swore she could feel it in her throat.

  It wasn't racing in fear. It was racing in excitement at the thought of Nik's fingers touching her flesh.

  "Let's not talk about killing." She almost gave a hard, bitter laugh. The last thing she wanted to even think about was killing. "I forgot to call your cab. You're going to have to wait awhile for it to arrive."

  His lips quirked in amusement. "Not a problem." He pulled his own cell phone from the holster at his side before hitting a number.

  "Pickup," he notified the other end before giving the address. "Yeah. Good thing I ca

ught you. I'll be waiting outside."

  He flipped the phone closed.

  "A friend?" she asked.

  "A co-worker. She owes me a favor." He pushed the phone back into the holster before turning back to Mikayla. "I'd ask for coffee, but I can almost feel the word 'no' on your lips."

  She had to grin at that. No matter how much she wanted to spend more time with this intriguing man, she wasn't as brave as she wished she were.

  "Sorry," she sighed, hearing the heavy regret in the sound. "My dad is already going to go ballistic because I didn't call him first thing. If he finds out I let a stranger into my house, he'll begin to question how well he raised me."

  "A woman who listens to her father. A strange concept." Nik grinned, causing her stomach to turn flips at the quirk of his hard, bitable lips. Damn, she would love to taste those lips.

  41

  "There are a few of us left," she promised him, letting a small laugh pass her lips despite the ache in her ribs.

  "Yes, so it seems." He tilted his head in agreement. "Ah, well, my ride will be here in two more minutes. I have to say, I was glad to meet you, Miss Martin."

  "And I have to say, thank you for saving me." She grinned back as she held her hand out. "Can I have my keys now?"

  Pulling the keys from the ignition, he placed them slowly in her palm, his fingers touching her flesh as she felt a subtle, low rush of energy as it passed over her skin. Her fingers curled over the keys, brushing his as his hand lifted.

  "Thank you again," she said, her voice more breathless than before.

  "I'll see you soon," he promised. "Remember, I live just next door. Come on now; let me see you inside so I can be sure you're going to be okay. Like your father, I'll worry."

  "You have children?" Was he married? Oh, Lord, was she lusting after a married man who was going to move in next door with a wife and children?

  His expression stilled, though. Something hard and brutal flashed in those icy blue eyes.

  "I did once," he finally said before giving his head a hard shake and pulling the latch to the door and stepping out quickly.

  He didn't want to talk about it; that was obvious.

  He was a father once, he said. His child was dead or somehow lost to him then?

  She held her questions, her curiosities. Some subjects were too sensitive, especially between two people who didn't know each other.

  Her door opened; then he reached inside and gently helped her from the Jeep.

  "Nik, I'm sorry." She laid her hand on his arm.

  "For what?" His eyes narrowed in the dim light.

  "For whatever hurts you," she said softly before stepping aside and moving gingerly along the sidewalk, aware of him behind her.

  Her door was still locked. Inserting the key, she unlocked it, stepped inside, and pushed in the code for the alarm system. Everything was still secure. Her lamps were still on; her cat, Biskus, meowed from the arched doorway into the kitchen just as he did every time she returned.

  "Everything's fine." She turned back to Nik, aware of him staring down at her, tall and broad. Protective. "Thank you again."

  "Thank you." He reached out, touched her unbruised cheek, then turned and left. A car pulled up at the curb and as Mikayla watched the door open she saw the redhead inside. Tall, of course, and pretty.

  And then they were gone.

  Closing the door behind her, Mikayla reset the locks and the security system before staring down at the rather large black and white long-haired cat that had adopted her.

  "Well, it's just you and me again, Biskus."

  He meowed again, then turned and loped back to the kitchen.

  A clear indication he felt he deserved a treat for being left at home alone. She felt perhaps she deserved a treat herself. For the bruise on her face, the one she felt forming on her ribs, the fear she had experienced that night, and the man she had 42

  been forced to walk away from.

  Her father would have been horrified.

  She could hear him raging even as a smile tipped her lips.

  Her brothers would go crazy.

  And that still wasn't enough to dim her interest.

  Or her arousal.

  43

  Chapter 4

  "Oh, my God!" Deirdre's voice was horrified, her expression slackening into lines of complete disbelief as Mikayla walked into the shop early the next morning. She had timed her arrival to coincide with Deirdre's and to ensure she could take care of customers while Mikayla hid for the day.

  "It's not as bad as it looks," Mikayla assured her assistant. Mikayla knew her face looked damned bad. The bruise spread across her cheek to her jaw and then to the side of her lip. Her lower lip was split and, though not grotesquely swollen, incredibly uncomfortable.

  "It's not as bad as it looks?" Deirdre's eyes were wide, her hands moving from her silk-clad hips as she rushed across the plush carpet to Mikayla.

  "Mikayla, what in the world happened to you?" Her friend's green eyes, the color of a summer leaf, filled with threatening tears as her hands lifted to Mikayla's shoulders and turned her more fully to the light. "My God. Who hit you? Do I need to start collecting bail for your brothers?"

  "They don't know, and you're not going to tell them." Mikayla suppressed a shiver; she was doing everything she could to keep her family from finding out.

  "You think you can keep this from them?" Deirdre propped her hands on her hips again, the cream silk of her skirt stretching over her hips as her shoulders straightened beneath the light blue sleeveless blouse she wore.

  "I'd better keep it from them," Mikayla muttered. "They'll make my life hell otherwise."

  "So what happened?" Deirdre demanded again, following Mikayla as she gave a brief shake of her head and moved to her office at the back of the shop.

  "I was attacked in the parking lot of the club," she told the other woman as they entered her office. "Maybe it was a mugger."

  "And maybe it was a Nelson fanatic," Deirdre snapped, anger filling her tone now. "That's who it was, wasn't it?"

  "I really don't know, Deirdre." Mikayla plopped her purse on the less-than-tidy desk and sat down gingerly in the softly padded chair behind it.

  "What else is wrong?" Deirdre would have to notice the careful way Mikayla took her seat.

  It never failed. Her family and friends were like overprotective bears at times.

  "Look, I was just knocked around a little bit," Mikayla assured Deirdre. "A white knight showed up, rescued me, and delivered me home safe and sound." And that was enough to distract Deirdre.

  "White knight?" Deirdre plopped her rear on the corner of Mikayla's desk, the open door giving her clear sight of the front door, and gave Mikayla a demanding look.

  "Give deets, girlfriend."

  Mikayla laughed. "Deets, huh? What makes you think there are any details?" Details such as height, hair, eyes, pure male sex appeal. Oh, Mikayla had deets. 44

  "Well, duh." Deirdre laughed. " 'White knight' is the key word here. Tell me all about him."

  Mikayla's lips parted as the light tinkle of the bell at the door sounded. She started to laugh at the pout that formed on Deirdre's lips, until she saw a look of complete awe fill her face.

  Mikayla leaned forward tentatively and restrained a sigh at the sight of the man walking across the carpet. In black leather pants, biker boots, and a T-shirt that stretched across his hard, broad chest, Nik Steele walked into the dress shop.

  "The white knight," she murmured in amusement as Deirdre seemed locked in amazement.

  "Mikayla?" He stepped into the office, looking between her and Deirdre. Ice blue eyes. Mikayla wondered if there was actually any emotion behind that gaze. The night before, she hadn't seen the ice there, the hard, almost cynical light; instead, she had felt something, sensed it, in the way he acted, the tone of his voice. But she remembered what he had said. He'd once been a father. Losing a child would destroy the soul, she thought. But would it leave anything for anyone else?