“That’s just ridiculous. I can take the bus.”
Reid’s face turned stony again. Here we go. Knowing his friend, Gage held up a hand. “Before you lose your shit, I’ll drive her into town after we check the weapons I wanted you to look at. I’m heading that way anyway.” He looked back at Micki. “And, sorry, but I agree with him on the bus. Too risky right now. At least until we figure out what’s happening with Flynn and this Tomas.”
“Guys, I’m not an infant. I’ve been on my own for ten years.”
“And look where that got you.”
Micki turned a hard glare on her brother and—yow—this girl didn’t play. Before he had to bust up a sibling brawl—not uncommon between the males in this family—Gage put up two hands. “Both of you, take a second here and breathe. It’s been a wild day. Everyone is on edge.”
“No shit?” Reid snarked.
Gage faced Micki. “Let me take you into town. See what Brynne has. If that doesn’t work, we’ll tackle the bus situation. Let’s deal with one thing at a time. Can we do that?”
Micki slid her gaze to her brother, but locked her jaw. Oh, boy. If he let them, they'd tear the place up.
“Great.” She slapped a phony smile on. “Call me when you’re ready to go. Reid has my number.”
If being in Steele Ridge meant dealing with her pushy brothers, Micki wouldn’t survive it.
She plopped on her bed, stared up at the ceiling fan and spewed a stream of swear words that would get her in trouble with her mother. What was it with the men in her life? Everyone wanted to control her.
Well, she was done with that. All around. She rolled sideways, grabbed her backpack from the floor, and pulled her laptop out. In need of something positive in her life, she’d been playing around with new software and now, given her holding pattern while waiting on Gage, she had time to get back to it. Besides, with her billionaire brother in residence, if she could get the last few bugs out, she might be able to sell it.
An appealing thought, considering her lack of current employment. If she intended to stay in Steele Ridge, sponging off of her family wouldn’t do.
Nope. She needed a job. An honest one she didn’t have to hide or feel shame over. For the first time in years, she had options. Freedom. An opportunity to decide what exactly she wanted to be when she grew up. All she’d ever been was a black hat.
The ding of her e-mail filled the quiet room and she watched the messages fire in like tiny missiles. Maybe Tomas had gotten back to her.
He’d be steaming mad, about a lot of things, but down deep, he’d understand her desire to move on. For years they'd talked about where they'd go, the places they wanted to experience, the people they'd like to meet. Underneath, they both yearned for something more than life with Phil. What that something was, they'd never quite hit on.
At least she hadn't.
Tomas had done a lot of listening and less talking during those revealing conversations, but she’d chalked it up to his DNA. Men weren’t talkers. About anything.
She scanned the loading e-mails and—dang it—Phil’s name popped up. An e-mail from his personal account. Out of jail. Had to be if he had access to his computer or phone. In which case, he'd probably already received her message.
But was he back in the States?
Panic bubbled inside. “No. Please. Not yet.”
Her finger hovered over the mouse pad, ready to click on the e-mail. Wait. After she’d blown up Tomas's phone and, oh, right, sent the video, he could be retaliating by sending her a virus. Unlikely, given that this particular e-mail was from Phil’s personal account. The one he communicated with friends and family from. He kept his business and personal accounts separate, but utilized software that allowed him to easily click from one to another and occasionally, he’d forget to click out of his personal account.
Something that might explain why she’d received a message from said personal account.
Still, anything from Phil, at this point, was suspect.
She clicked over to her online backup service. Last backup completed three hours earlier. If she opened Phil’s e-mail and it fried her laptop, she’d still have access to her files.
Why open it, though? Did it matter? If he were home, even if Tomas hadn’t told him about her going AWOL, her absence meant she’d left Vegas.
Shoving the laptop away, she hopped off the bed, tugging on her fingers as she paced the room.
Just an e-mail with an attachment. That’s all. Could be a simple note inquiring about her plans to return to Vegas. Phil was slick that way. She'd seen it hundreds, if not thousands, of times when he dealt with people.
Like any predator, he groomed his targets. At first he'd be unaggressive. Downright friendly. Supportive even. And then, then, when he’d cultivated the stirrings of a relationship and earned trust, he went for the kill. He'd manipulate and threaten, burying fear so deep inside his victim, they’d never be free.
She went back to her laptop and flexed her fingers. The attachment could be a problem. Dammit. One way to find out. She dropped to her knees beside the bed and clicked. A two-word message popped up.
See attached.
Her eyes snapped to the little paper clip where an mp4 file waited for her to fire it up. A video. Just as she'd sent him. This one titled “Jonah.”
Tit for tat with the master of the kill.
Disregarding thoughts of viruses and logic bombs, she clicked the file. The little spinning wheel did its thing and a second later there was her brother. Ten years younger, coming out of a room and rushing down a hallway.
Instinctively, she knew what this was and she sucked in a hard breath. “Oh no.”
All this time, she’d wondered about this video. If it actually existed or if Phil, in typical Phil fashion, had simply played her, giving her the ultimate mind screw, to keep control.
Four seconds of video from a security system. That’s all Phil had sent.
He had more. At least that’s what he’d told her. Twenty long minutes’ worth. He’d never shown it to her, but now she didn’t doubt it. If he needed evidence, he found it. If he couldn’t find it, he created it.
This evidence, though? This was the real deal. No funky editing or splicing because on her screen Jonah wore his favorite Doctor Strange T-shirt. Back then, he'd lived in that shirt, and on this night she’d teased him about it. About maybe making more of an effort with his clothing choices, considering they’d be around the cool kids.
Her phone beeped, launching her from her mind travel. She whipped it from her back pocket and scanned the number on the text. Area code 563. Where the heck was that? This could be Phil or Tomas messing with her after sending the video. She tapped the screen and read the message.
Gage.
Letting her know he was ready to go.
Run. She dropped the phone on the bed and drove her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp as the urge to escape, to just walk out the door, pounded her. If she went back to Vegas, maybe she could deal with Phil and everyone would be safe.
Jonah would be safe.
Vegas meant no Steele Ridge, though. And no more visits home. After this stunt, Phil—and Tomas—would never trust her again. In one swoop, she’d managed to deprive herself of her biological family and obliterate the twisted version of her makeshift Vegas one. Total isolation.
She glanced around the room, studied the warm beige of the walls, the bamboo ceiling fan, all of it meant to give comfort to whoever slept here.
Comfort.
Something she hadn't had since leaving for Vegas. God, she’d left home so long ago. All this time she’d dealt with loneliness and shame and the tangled emotions that came with needing her mother’s hugs that she couldn’t have.
These thoughts. What good did they do? Other than to drag her down, make her wallow in unalterable circumstances.
On the other side of the bed, the French doors opened to property her mother had loved for years and now owned. All thanks to Jonah.
Who’d made something of himself. For that she was grateful, but Micki had missed it all.
Now, on her screen, the paused video of Jonah sent its unspoken message.
Come back or the video gets released.
Her phone beeped again. Perfect distraction. She scooped it up and scanned the second text from Gage.
You’re not plotting to overthrow a government, are you? Let’s go.
Gage Barber. A man hotter than a Louisiana summer and more at home with her family than she was. Somehow, she’d found an ally in him. A bridge to her family.
To coming home.
And that's what she wanted. A safe place to land. A family, who, if she got really lucky, would hold her tight. Going back to Vegas wouldn't get that for her.
“No running,” she said, loving the sound of it and the feeling, the absolute control, strengthening her spine.
If Phil wanted a war, she'd collected enough information to give him one. She wouldn't stop, either. The skills she'd learned in his employ not only worked for him, they could work against him. Her hacking skills, if she could get into his server, might uncover all sorts of additional dirt. How incredibly ironic.
But, Lord, using Phil's own tactics on him brought her to a new low. After this, there'd be no more denials, no more justifying how she stayed away from the ugliness of what they did.
After this, she wasn't a researcher anymore. Her family would be disgusted, but if it meant protecting them and reclaiming her life, she'd crawl into that nasty gutter and do it.
They just wouldn't need to know.
She tapped out of the e-mail from Phil, shut the lid on the laptop, and stowed it in her backpack. She’d deal with that later.
Right now, though, she had a ride into town with a hunky guy so she could buy new clothes.
9
After dinner, Mom headed into town to help man the Chamber of Commerce’s hot cocoa booth at Novemberfest. According to Gage, big brother Grif’s latest bright idea—literally—consisted of a tree-lighting ceremony to kick off the holiday season.
With Mom gone and the boys huddled around the television arguing over a basketball game, Micki grabbed a jacket and slipped out to the porch, plopping into one of Mom’s Adirondacks.
Brotherly loudness took getting used to. Again.
According to Gage, the past two weeks had been filled with rain and cloudy skies, but beyond the trees, stars twinkled against a sheet of perfect black. Not one cloud.
Home.
To prove it, she puffed out a breath into the chilly air and watched the vapor disappear. Vegas got cold, but not like this. Not…peaceful.
Home.
“Micki!” Britt called from inside the house.
So much for peaceful. Definitely home now.
Already mourning her alone time, she pushed out of the chair, opened the storm door, and found her brother waving her inside. Could this be the dreaded family meeting she’d been anticipating? She slipped into the kitchen, her quickening pulse a giveaway that whatever this was, it wouldn’t be easy.
In the dining room, Britt took his spot at the end of the table, sliding into his role as family leader. At least among the siblings. Why her father holed himself up in that cabin, Micki didn’t know, but for years now, Britt had accepted the role of patriarch and no one seemed to mind.
“Huddle up. Since Mom is gone we can talk.”
Reid dropped into the chair to Britt’s right and met her gaze. Grif, wearing a crisp white dress shirt and gray slacks he’d managed to keep pristine throughout dinner, entered the room and commandeered the chair at the opposite end of the table. “What’s going on that Mom can’t hear?”
“And dragged me from my computer?”
Micki glanced at Jonah. Another thing that obviously hadn’t changed was Jonah’s habit of working late into the night and sleeping in when he could. As kids they’d joked that their brains didn’t reach optimum speed until midnight.
Behind her, Gage, clearly waiting to make sure everyone had a seat, propped a shoulder against the doorframe. After being assured Britt would pick her up at Brynne’s shop, Gage had gone home and then returned for dinner.
Not that she minded seeing him. Gage Barber was everything she’d never imagined finding attractive in a man. Wholesome, rugged, and outdoorsy. The blond hair and lean, rippling muscles didn’t hurt either, but she was a girl with a sordid past and guys like Gage? They wouldn’t understand. On the flip side, dating lowlifes who had no room to judge her wasn’t an ideal option. Which left her stuck.
And alone.
“Suds,” Reid said, pointing to the chair next to Micki, “have a seat.”
“I was saving it for Evie.”
“No Evie. She’s helping Brynne at the store.”
“Christ,” Grif said, “she’ll love being left out. But if it’s that busy in town, maybe this goofy Novemberfest idea is working.”
Reid sat back, his big shoulders smothering the chair. “According to Brynne, it’s working, but we got things to deal with here. I talked to Micki earlier and she needs our help.”
All eyes went to her and she froze. What? What could she possibly say right now? Gee, guys, my boss has been blackmailing me for years and to save Jonah’s reputation I broke about five million laws. And guess what? I'm actively trying to hack into his server and scrape up enough dirt to free us.
Beside her, Gage jerked his chin, urging her to speak up.
“I…um…”
“Spit it out, kid,” Reid said.
Gage eyeballed him. “Maybe you can give her a chance?”
Wow. Not even a sibling and he’d jumped to her defense.
He’d help her. He’d said it already. Only problem was, she’d gotten too used to being alone and not accepting help. All of this felt…off.
She looked at each of her brothers, pausing at Jonah, whose dark hair stuck straight up in the back. More than likely he’d been kicked back in his gaming chair, giving him a nice case of chairhead.
Annoyance at her brother aside, she had to tell them something. Even if it was only enough to get them off her case while she dealt with Phil.
“Okay,” she said. “I'll start with leaving Vegas. I didn’t tell anyone there my plans.”
Britt narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to be found. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Do what?” Grif shot back.
“The job. It’s…a lot.”
Jonah shrugged. “So stay here with us. Gage is bugging me about a cyber warfare class for the training center. I’d love to hand that off and you could do it in your sleep.”
“Hold on there, Baby Billionaire,” Reid said. “Twiggy isn’t done.”
At the time, she’d despised her childhood nickname. Now? Hearing it after all the years, it brought her a sense of stability, of belonging. A tight ball of emotion clogged her airway and she cleared her throat. Get through it. That’s all she had to do.
“Phil—”
“That asshole,” Britt said.
Well, yes. “He got arrested in Mexico.”
“Ha,” Grif said. “What he’d do?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. While he was in jail, I took off. This trip isn’t like the others. I knew when I left I didn’t want to go back.” She looked at Jonah again, stared into his eyes. The exact ones she saw in the mirror each day. “He won’t let me go.”
Jonah waved it off. “That’s crap. He can’t tell you where you can go.”
Yes. He can.
“It’s complicated and I can’t talk about it. It’s better for everyone if I don’t. My plan when I left Vegas was to stop and see you and then leave. I didn’t want to drag you into it.”
“Into what?” Grif again.
“All of it.”
“Mikayla,” Britt said in that fatherly tone that sometimes annoyed her other brothers. “I’m confused.”
She looked at Gage, still beside her, quiet and observant. She needed
help and out of the group, oddly enough, he knew the most.
Taking her cue—or her silent pleading—he leaned forward. “Look, guys, I’m the outsider here.”
“You’re not an outsider,” Reid argued.
“Whatever. My point is, I’m not family, but we’re on a time crunch. At the B last night, I spotted a guy talking to Evie and then to Micki. I didn’t recognize him, but then Micki walked away and that was the end of it. This morning, I found Micki hauling ass down the driveway trying to leave.”
Reid muttered something at the same time Britt said, “I’m confused” and Jonah said something to Reid, apparently in response to whatever Reid had said and all of it melded together, squashing the quiet of the room.
“Shh,” Micki said. “If you’re all yammering, I can’t talk.”
“Fine,” all four of her brothers said at once.
Sigh.
“I was sneaking out because the guy in the bar works for Phil. He came here to find me. Phil expects me back in Vegas and I’m not going. I was leaving because I refuse to drag you all into my problems.”
“Why?” Britt asked. “Is Phil dangerous?”
Micki didn’t answer.
“Shit,” Jonah said. “We knew he was slime but dangerous? Seriously?”
Yes. Seriously. “I don’t know what he’ll do. Maybe nothing, but it’s me he wants. I thought if I wasn't here and y'all didn't know where I was, he’d have no use for you. That was my original plan. I'm working on something else now. Something that will, hopefully, convince him to let me go.”
“What does that mean?” Britt again.
Reid saved her from having to stretch the truth by popping out of his chair, the sudden movement stirring up the stillness. “This is bullshit. This guy can’t hurt us.”
If only that were true. “Tomas, the guy from the bar last night, is—or at least was—my friend. He said he wouldn’t tell Phil where I was if I went back with him today.” She looked at Jonah again, whose gaze had locked on to her. “I e-mailed him earlier and told him I’m not going back.”
Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5) Page 9