“Before this is over,” Gage cracked, “she might be committed all right.”
Next to him, Micki snorted and—wait for it—was that, could it be? Yep. The corner of her mouth lifted into, if Gage wasn’t mistaken, a Micki version of a smile.
Micki Steele didn’t smile much. She simply sat, owl-eyed, taking in her surroundings like a kid waiting for the next beating.
Why that was, he didn’t know. But more and more, with every second spent in this woman’s presence, the niggling inside his damaged brain grew.
Whatever her secrets were, he wanted to know. The hint of attraction was there and his ignored baser needs could only stand so much. The lack of sex was his own doing, considering a few of the single females—Cherlyn Marstin for one—had made it clear they wouldn't mind losing their clothes in front of him. But Steele Ridge was a small town, and building a new life after his injuries had been his main focus. Dating someone from town meant seeing that person whether the relationship went anywhere or not.
And he wasn’t ready. Not while his injuries made him less of the man he expected of himself.
Even going home to Iowa right now was out of the question. He could hide his impairment from the Steeles. From his family? No way.
But the mystery of Micki might be a good exercise in challenging his brain.
As she sat looking beyond his shoulder, that nearly-there smile disappeared. Tracking her gaze, he swung his head to the bar where a dark-haired guy wearing jeans and a black graphic T-shirt bent low and whispered into Evie’s ear.
The dude straightened up, scanning Evie’s body from head to toe, nodding his approval with a heavy-eye-contact kicker.
If the Steele boys caught this, they’d go insane.
Gage didn’t like the look of this guy. Not even a little.
Just as he decided he’d make a quick trip to the john by way of Evie’s admirer and break that shit up, Evie whipped out her phone and grinned up at the dude. Maybe she knows him.
But then the guy leaned over and whispered in her ear again, this time looking over her shoulder.
At Micki.
What. The. Fuck?
Did Micki know him? His clothing choices, dark and edgy with a skull and crossbones on his T-shirt, reminded him of Micki. Her messenger bag had that same skull and crossbones. Maybe they were friends from years ago? This guy had to be in his thirties, though. Definitely at least a few years older than Micki.
Beside him, she set her hands on the table and dug her fingertips into the scarred wood until her unpainted nails went white.
Not happy.
Gage’s shit meter blew apart. “You know him?”
Pushing herself up, she set her shoulders and let out a long breath. “I sure do.”
Micki’s heart slammed so hard it should have bruised her spine.
Standing at the bar, in the middle of the Triple B, in her hometown, where her family lived, was Tomas—Tommy.
Basically having sex with her sister.
Maybe that sex thing was over the top, but she knew exactly how Tommy operated. The way he wormed his way next to Evie and whispered in her ear, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Of all the women in all the towns in North Carolina, Tommy didn’t accidentally show up in Steele Ridge and meet her sister.
He wanted Micki’s attention.
Well, he’d gotten it and the rage, the absolute devouring of her nervous system, made her limbs tremble.
Dammit. Knowing it would be the first place Phil would look, Micki shouldn’t have come back. Even for a quick stop. Her plan to stay just ahead of him and be gone by the time he’d scammed himself out of that Mexican prison was an epic fail.
Phil. Was he here, too? Or was this the proverbial shot across her bow? The warning that she should get back to Vegas where, if she did what she was told and didn't make a fuss, she'd be rewarded.
No. If he were in the area, he’d be in the Triple B. Either with Tommy or alone. Simply to unnerve her. To get under her skin, to control her, by dropping hint bombs of what would happen if she tried to run or distance herself. The evidence. Always the evidence.
“Excuse me,” she said to Gage.
When he grabbed her wrist, her already tense body stiffened and he let go, holding his hands up.
“No,” she said. “It’s not…”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
Now she’d insulted him. Great. She'd pushed away the one person, a near stranger and bona fide war hero, who didn’t pepper her with questions or judgment.
“It’s not you,” she said. “I need to talk to someone.”
“The idiot with Evie?”
“I’ll take care of it. Please don’t call attention to him.”
Before Gage could comment, she pushed through the crowd, all that simmering rage moving her forward. Compared to what she’d experienced when she’d first arrived, diving into the center of this crowd to get to Tommy didn’t seem like such torture. All she knew now was that she needed to reason with him. And get him away from Evie.
Away from Jonah.
Away from all of them.
As she approached, he met her gaze, cocked one eyebrow and held up his beer in toast. At the very least, he seemed amused. A good sign.
She could work with amused. Which, given their history together, he knew all too well. And that cut both ways. As coworkers and friends, they’d shared years of inside jokes, not to mention an affection for sarcastic humor.
Right now, he was screwing with her. Trying and succeeding in unnerving her by pulling Evie into this hot-ass mess of a scenario.
I can do this.
After ten years of being too afraid to break free, now suddenly she grew a backbone?
“Well, hello,” he said, feigning surprise at Micki’s appearance.
Evie swatted Micki’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell me your friend was coming.”
I didn’t know.
“Yep,” Micki said. “I see you two are getting acquainted.”
“You know me”—Tommy let his gaze linger over Evie again—“always a sucker for beautiful women.”
Evie rolled her eyes. “We met in town earlier. I was at Brynne's shop and he came in looking for a gift.”
Or following my sister.
Micki inserted herself in the minimal space separating her sister and Tommy and wound up bumping a woman attempting to divert Tommy’s attention with her giant boobs.
Girlfriend, you don’t want any part of this.
Micki ignored the woman and met Tommy's stare. “Talk about a surprise.”
“Yes. Let’s talk about it.” He leaned in. “I guess I don’t need to tell you that you left your phone in your car. Your trunk, of all places. And, hey, your emergency bag was gone.”
He'd actually broken into her car. A slow-moving panic sparked in Micki’s brain as Evie watched—and listened to—the exchange.
Get her out of here.
“Evie,” she said, “give us a second, please.”
“Sure.” Evie waggled her phone. “Call me!”
Her little sister wandered off, her adorable butt swinging as she went. Something feral ignited in Tommy’s eyes, and Micki’s panic exploded. This was her friend. Years and years together. She’d trusted him, shared secrets—some anyway—as well as her heartache over her family’s estrangement. All of it confided to a friend, and loved one.
Yes, she could admit that. She loved him. Maybe not the way she loved Jonah or her real family, but they shared a connection. A tether to the strange world of Phil Flynn that only those in his inner circle could truly grasp. How pathetic was that? Phil manipulated her into his lowlife world, then slowly, over time, convinced her she belonged with him, that she could trust him and her family didn’t understand. The truly sick part was that she knew. All this time, she’d understood he’d worked her into a corner. She couldn’t put all the blame on him. She took part by allowing him to separate her from her family. And then he�
�d capitalized on her fear of being without that same family by convincing her he was the one to trust.
And now Tommy, too. The son of a bitch was using her sister as bait.
The betrayal alone made her burn. She’d process that later, after the anger wore off.
“Stop it,” she said. “I know what you’re doing and Evie’s a good kid. I thought you and I were friends?”
“We are friends. But imagine what I thought when I saw your bag gone. I trusted you to do the right thing.”
The right thing. They’d been crawling around in filth for so long they probably wouldn’t know the right thing if it clocked either of them upside the head.
“I’m sorry. I…” She looked around the packed bar—what am I doing?— and shook her head. “I don’t know. I was alone in the office. Thanksgiving day and I had a moment there. I figured I could see my family for a couple of days while you worked on getting Phil out. Then I’d just come back when it was time. Besides, as long as I have my laptop, I can work from here.”
Liar, liar. But, oh well. If it bought her time to back Tommy off and get out of Steele Ridge, she’d be set. The short-term goal right now? Convince him her visit to Steele Ridge was just that. A visit. Like all the other times.
Short-term goal two: Make sure Evie’s number disappeared from his phone.
Tommy made a tsk-tsk noise. “I might believe that if you hadn’t ditched your cell.”
“Not intentionally. I must have dropped it when I reached into the trunk. By the time I realized it, I was already on the road and figured I’d e-mail you.”
“And yet, you didn’t.”
“I responded to you.”
“Once.”
Touché. She stood silently while the music blared and the crowd bunched in. If she waited long enough, Tommy would say something. One thing about her old friend, he needed to fill space.
He eyed a tall redhead passing by, then faced Micki. “Tell me you needed a break. Some downtime. A little R and R, whatever. But don’t lie to me.” He drove a finger into his chest. “Not to me.”
He knew better. She should have anticipated that. Being home was short-circuiting her brain. Best to agree with him, let him believe he’d gotten it right.
She nodded. “I’m sorry. With Phil out of the picture, I wanted a few days to myself.”
She set her hand on his arm, a gesture she’d made thousands of times. Each time done with affection, but now, after his little charade with Evie, all the warmth usually found with Tommy—Tomas—had been replaced with a cold numbness.
Tomas looked over at the redhead again. Micki had already lost him to a Playboy model. Well, she could have him. She could fuck him hanging from a chandelier if she wanted.
After Micki convinced him to go back to Vegas.
“Tomas, please. Phil knows where I am twenty-four/seven. I freaked a little. I grabbed my go-bag and headed out. Originally, I’d thought about LA. By the time I got to the bus, I changed my mind. My brother just got engaged and I wanted to be here. That’s all.”
Of course, Tomas wouldn’t know Reid had just announced said engagement. She hoped.
“And what? You weren’t coming back? Phil won’t let that happen. You know you have to come back.”
“Is he with you?”
“No. He’s still in Mexico. Should be out tonight. He sent me to keep an eye on”—he checked on the Playboy model and came back to her—“things.”
On her. But, phew, no Phil to deal with.
Yet.
“Did you tell him I was gone?”
He met her gaze, his lips tight for a second before they slithered into a grin. “Would I do that to you?”
No. He wouldn’t. Not Tommy. But this was Tomas. Phil’s soldier. The one relied on to do things they wouldn’t share with her. For her own good, they’d said.
And truthfully, she didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to face it.
All these years, Tommy had been her friend. Her ally. Her confidant when living in the deceit of Phil’s world consumed her.
Except, he’d just leered at Evie to provoke Micki.
Some friend.
Still, she had to roll with this. Get out of this current dustup and make a plan. She gripped his arm and squeezed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I figured you’d come here.”
“See? That alone tells you I didn’t intend on not coming back. Of course this is the first place you'd look. If I wanted to run, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to hang around here.”
Which was all true. He’d simply caught up with her before she could disappear.
Tomas glanced over at the table, where a burst of laughter from the Steele clan erupted. “That’s your family?”
“Yes. My brothers and their girlfriends.”
And Gage. She found him watching her, those observant eyes of his taking it all in. She needed to peel away from Tomas before suspicion grew and Gage, or her brothers, wandered over. Because right now, she didn’t have a clue how to explain who Tomas might be.
Other than to say he was Phil’s henchman and in Steele Ridge to make sure she returned to Vegas.
Her brothers would love that.
Sensing something, Gage stood and she turned back to Tomas. “Give me until tomorrow with them. Please. If Phil needs something, I have my laptop. Okay?”
The redhead nudged closer, and Tomas gave her a once-over similar to the one he’d given Evie. “Tomorrow,” he said, keeping his hungry eyes on the woman. “Then we both get on a plane and go.”
6
Morning sun broke through the wooden blinds on the French door in Micki’s bedroom and she groaned at the intrusion.
Still on Vegas time, her body had no interest in greeting the day. No matter what time it was. She rolled over and blinked until the red neon numbers on the clock came into focus: 7:30.
She buried her head under the pillow. “We need drapes on these windows.”
We. Not Mom, but we. Did she have the right, after all these years, to assume she had a say in what went on the windows in her mother’s house?
Could be she was tired and overthinking it. Another hour of sleep. That’s all she needed. But today was the day. Tomas thought she’d be flying home with him and by now, Phil would be out of Mexico.
If she intended on getting away, on leaving her godforsaken, dirt-digging life behind, she needed to make her move now. Early.
Get it done.
Don’t think too long or hard and just do it. Her motto for the past ten years. When it came to other people’s lives, it was easier.
She tossed the pillow aside, stared up at the ceiling fan, slowly swirling above her.
What if she didn’t go?
What if she stayed here and confessed everything to Jonah. Let him, for once, be involved in the process. They weren’t scared teenagers anymore. And Jonah was loaded. So filthy, stinking rich that writing a check to hire attorneys—good attorneys—would end all of this.
These few days alone, out from under his control, had given her a taste of life as it should be. Freedom to move around and leave behind work she knew was wrong.
Maybe she could even strike a deal with Phil. She'd keep his secrets if he let her go.
But if it were that simple, she’d have done it years ago. Phil knew that. His plying her with gifts and a pseudo family proved it.
Too late now. With what she knew, he'd never let it happen. She needed to run. Draw Tomas away from Steele Ridge and her family. The plan wasn’t great, but Phil’s focus had always been her. Where she went, what she did, who she communicated with. Hopefully, that trend would continue when she left.
Whipping off the covers, she listened for any sign of movement in the house. Nothing. Not even Mom. Not wanting to wake anyone, she padded to the closet and grabbed her Canyon Ridge High School gym bag. She’d have to leave it. Too identifiable. She swapped it out for the backpack she’d picked up at the airport.
Even then she’d known she’
d need to blend in at some point.
She shoved twenty dollars in the outside zipper pocket and stowed the remaining $800 inside, all she’d have until she landed somewhere and could find a job. A job she’d get using her Stephanie Gimble creds.
Micki ripped the zipper on the backpack closed and gritted her teeth against a wave of grief. Goddamned Phil. Always cornering her. Always making her decide whether she’d spend her entire adult life being controlled by him or running from him.
“Has to be done,” she muttered.
Not wanting to wake the rest of the house with the loud pipes of the old Victorian, she opted out of a shower and gave herself a quick cleanup with the washrag. It would have to do until she got to a hotel somewhere. She dressed in her only other set of clothing. Jeans, a long-sleeved Henley, and her favorite Chuck Taylors. A vision of her mother in her own Chuck Taylors flashed.
Don’t.
Thinking about her mother now, when she was about to disappear forever, wouldn’t make this any easier.
Sorry, Mom.
Maybe someday she could come back. Or find a way to sneak her mother to her. That would be years, though. Phil wouldn’t give up. He’d told her so hundreds, if not thousands, of times.
Bastard.
Time to go.
First though, she had a message to send. To Phil. She set her laptop on the antique desk and logged in to the website housing the folders she shared with Phil. She created a new folder, uploaded an mp4 file, and stopped.
If she shared it, even without a note, he'd understand. He'd get the message.
She dropped her hands, drummed her fingers against her thighs, and stared at the screen.
Now or never. This was the moment. Her chance to, for once, control the situation. To leave and build a life somewhere. A normal life with no shame or secrets.
She tapped the mousepad and a message popped up. Your folder has been shared. Soon he'd get the e-mail alerting him to the video. The one of him bribing a Vegas PD cop in their office. She'd managed to overhear part of that conversation when she'd returned from lunch one day four years earlier. On a whim, she'd snagged a copy of the video from the server before Phil could wipe it clean. She'd added it to the stash of other evidence she'd collected over the years, but the video had been the first documentation that wouldn't implicate her as well as Phil. As much as she liked to convince herself she didn’t get into the truly nasty stuff, she knew the tasks she completed could land her in jail. When it came down to it, even if she found the nerve to squeal on Phil, she’d have just as much to lose.
Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5) Page 5