“Then,” Reid said, “whatever this is, we’ll deal with it together.”
“But—”
Britt stood. “No buts. You’ve been running from us for ten years. If you want to stay, you’ll stay. Now tell us what this guy has on you.”
“I can’t.”
Grif ran a hand down the arm of his shirt, apparently smoothing away a wrinkle. “Here we go with the secrets again.”
What her brothers couldn’t grasp was that her secrets were meant to keep them safe. Giving them the full scope of her problem, the down-and-dirty truth, wouldn’t accomplish that.
“It’s better if you don’t know everything. As long as I don’t tell anyone, you will all be safe.”
Jumping in, Grif smacked his knuckles against the table. “Guys like Flynn are a dime a dozen in LA. I had a client last year who wanted to hire him. Wanted me to hire him.”
Oh, no. Please, God. As one of the premier sports agents in the country, Grif had many clients. She’d never heard his name thrown around the office, but that didn’t mean anything. Phil often hid things from her. Or maybe she hid them from herself. Denial had become her friend. Her very close friend.
She leaned forward so she could see him on the other side of Gage. “What client?”
“Basketball player. Total party animal. Got wasted in a club one night with a twenty-one-year-old. He followed her to the ladies’ room and had his security guy guard the door while he had sex with her. In the goddamn bathroom. When the girl sobered up, she claimed rape. My client came to me with it, wanted me to help him make it go away. I dropped him. I don’t need a guy like him. I heard he hired Phil Flynn. And it sure as shit went away.”
Sensing he had a question he wanted answered, Micki sat a little straighter. Wait for it…
But Grif simply stared at her, his jaw set. Questioning. Her own brother didn’t trust her.
“No,” she said, her voice only slightly pissy. “I wasn’t involved.”
“You’re sure?”
For the love of… “Yes. I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Are the cops after you?”
“No.”
“The feds?”
Dear God. “No! I swear to you. I have never, ever, done the ugly stuff. And, gee, Grif, thanks so much for the support!”
“Christ, Mikayla,” Britt said, scratching the back of his neck. “It all sounds ugly to me.”
Point there. “I only did the research.”
Jonah perked up. “Hacking?”
“Yes. And I never knew what exactly the cases were. He’d tell me he needed someone’s credit history and I’d get it. Did they have any DUIs? Any sort of criminal history. I’d get the specific information. That’s it. I swear to you.”
Micki stood, walked around the table to where Reid now leaned against the wall. She gripped Reid’s arm and faced all of her brothers and Gage. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but knowing the details of why I worked for Phil won’t help. Please, just trust me.”
A long few seconds passed with each of her brothers glancing around the table in silence. Men truly were apes the way they communicated.
As much as she wanted their acceptance, for them to believe in her, she knew they should toss her out. All these years she’d been gone and now she expected them to welcome her back? Not likely. Foolish girl.
“Fine,” Britt said. “But we need a plan.”
Reid, ever the tactician, held up a hand. “Where is Flynn now?”
“As far as I know, he's back in Vegas.”
“Not good enough,” Jonah said. “We need to know where he is. And this other guy, Tomas, he's probably still here.”
“Which means,” Grif said, “he's probably staying at one of the B and Bs in town. I'll call the owners and check that out.”
“Good,” Britt said. “And Micki doesn't go anywhere alone.”
Wait. What? “No way,” she said.
“Yes, way,” Reid shot back. “You don't know what this guy is capable of.”
Micki swung to Gage. The reasonable one. “Please, tell them I don't need to be in a prison.”
“Ditch the drama,” Reid said. “You are not a prisoner. If you were, I'd increase the security patrols on the property.”
Slowly, she lifted her hand. And flipped him off.
Mr. All-American cleared his throat. “Micki,” he said, “I'm sorry. I agree with your brothers on this. Until we know what Flynn is planning, I don't think it's safe.”
Her final hope had just blown apart. Poof. Gone. She shook her head as frustration tore her up. She'd left one situation where she'd had no control and wound up in yet another.
She scanned the table, taking in the Steele stubbornness on full display. Arguing with them wouldn't help. There were too many of them. She'd just go about her business of dealing with Phil. Once that was settled, she'd be free to go where she wanted, when she wanted.
“It's settled,” Britt said. “Mikayla, if things get dicey, you come to me. To any of us. Immediately.”
Having had more than his share of familial dynamics, Gage excused himself and headed down to the training center to close up. As much as Reid rammed it into his head that he wasn’t an outsider, Gage wasn’t a relative and leaving them be might be a wise choice. It seemed to him they all needed to get reacquainted because, as of ten minutes ago, Micki Steele was officially staying.
God help him and his horny self, because she’d looked pretty damned steamed when he'd gone against her. Which might explain her high-tailing it from the room after the meeting. God knew where she’d run off to. She'd have to deal with her anger. In this instance, the Steele boys were dead on. Even if it did create mind-melting tension.
Right now, Grif’s damned Novemberfest might provide the best distraction. Gage wasn’t much for festivals, but since he worked for a soon-to-be-opening business and didn’t have anything else to do on a Saturday night, he figured he’d swing by and avoid his growing attraction to Micki Steele. Damn, she had a spine. Her brothers weren’t exactly easy and she’d faced them all.
He followed the worn path back to the training center, his boots crunching over the loose gravel as Miss Joan’s porch light threw shadows from behind. A good thing, since the exterior lights on the training center hadn’t clicked on yet. He’d have to adjust the timer, make sure the spotlights went on earlier.
He breathed in the cool night air, appreciating that the miserable weather had given them a break with clear skies, plenty of stars, and enough warmth to keep the temperature at a comfortable level.
A light wind rustled tree branches and all of it, the crisp air, the sounds of nature, surrounded him, gave him a sense of calm and peace. Exactly what he’d come to Steele Ridge for.
Nights like this, he wouldn’t mind having someone by his side. Someone to hold and love and keep warm. But relationships required honesty and he couldn’t give that. Not yet. Honesty, in his current condition, meant weakness and he’d be damned if he’d willingly give that over. No way.
“Hi.”
Twenty feet from the building, he jerked to a stop, his hands immediately at the ready, his brain spurting adrenaline. He squinted into the darkness at the outline—a lean, leggy outline—of someone sitting on Miss Joan’s bench.
“Girl, you about gave me a stroke.”
“I’m sorry,” Micki said. “I thought you’d be up at the house with Reid.”
“I was. We’re done. I’m closing up and heading into town. Novemberfest.”
A shaft of moonlight drifted around the corner of the building and Micki tilted her head up, the long column of her neck exposed and vulnerable. That neck. He wanted his mouth on it.
“You’re going?” she asked.
“Since the center is about to open, I might as well put in an appearance.”
She gave up on the moon and looked at him, her leather jacket—and the body in it— backlit and…nope…not going there.
“It sounds nice. Small-town nice.
Not like Vegas, you know?”
“I do know.” He stepped closer, lowered himself to the bench and his thigh brushed hers.
One of them should probably scoot over. Make room.
Except, no one did.
Ah, damn. Seconds ago, he’d lamented his lack of female company. Between him and Micki, they were a class A train wreck.
“Is it crazy that I’m sitting here in the dark?”
He shrugged. “Not to me.”
“I like this bench. It’s quiet and I get to think of my mom.”
“We all need quiet sometimes. One of the guys in our old unit was into meditation and all that Zen crap. He made all of us try it one night.”
“Oh, Lord. Reid meditating?”
Gage laughed. “Yeah. That alone was worth it. It wasn’t his thing, but I liked it. That chance to close my eyes. Settle my thoughts.”
He liked it enough that he still did it every day. Whether it was actually meditation, he wasn’t sure, but he’d take five or ten minutes and rest his brain.
A bird flapped overhead and he peered up. Micki did the same and there was all that soft creamy skin again, sparking an urge to drag his fingers down it.
He needed to get laid. Simple fact. The rotten part of it was he could make it happen. Cherlyn Marstin had been sending the signals for a month. Every time he saw her in town, she was all over him with the extended eye contact and brushing her hands over his arms.
She was pretty, for sure, but…
Hell, he didn’t know. A quick screw with Cherlyn, for whatever reason, wouldn’t cure what ailed him.
Not with the moon glistening off Micki’s face. In profile, her sculpted cheekbones and stylishly messy hair falling around her face made his body hum, and he wasn’t idiot enough to deny he liked it. “Damn, you’re beautiful.”
“It’s dark. Everyone is beautiful in the dark.”
“Not like you.” He bumped her leg with his. “And that’s just me being honest. I’m not hitting on you.”
Not much.
“Well, that’s a pity.”
At that, he smiled. She definitely had that Steele wit.
She gave up on the moon, met his gaze, and held it while the previously cool air became charged and downright warm.
“I don’t want to keep you,” she said. “Novemberfest is calling.”
The out. The escape hatch.
Smart man that his family professed him to be, he stood. “Yeah, I should probably head down there. They’re lighting the tree at nine o’clock.” He took two steps, then paused.
Don’t.
Being a smart man also meant not leaving desirable women sitting alone on benches. He turned back. “You wanna come?”
10
“Into town?”
Micki sat on Mom’s bench, seriously paralyzed by Captain America asking her out.
Or maybe this was a sympathy thing to get her out of the house and away from the stress of the evening.
Did it matter? Either way, she wanted to go. Quite badly. Be normal for a while. Whatever normal might be.
Gage shook his head, laughing a little. “Yes, into town. But, hey, if you'd rather sit out here by yourself…”
“Yes. No. I mean—oy!” She laughed at herself. “I don’t know.”
“You’re funny, Micki. Anyway, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
Her chest slamming, Micki stood. “Well, Mr. All-American, I wouldn’t either.”
In town, Micki strolled beside Gage under a canopy of Christmas lights while ducking around the growing crowd on Main Street. Her cousin, Sheriff Maggie, had barricaded the block to motor traffic, and a solid wall of people stretched from one side to the other.
All they needed was snow and Steele Ridge would be a holiday wonderland.
Pausing in front of La Belle Style, Micki peered in the window where Evie, Brynne, and another young woman dealt with customers. “They're busy.”
“Yeah. Grif keeps coming up with ideas to increase foot traffic in town. He’s pretty good at it and the business owners are all over it.”
Brynne spotted the two of them at the window and waved. While she had her attention, Micki jabbed her finger at the gray cashmere V-neck sweater she wore under her jacket and received a double thumbs up for her choice.
Hours ago, Brynne had talked her into the sweater. At the time it felt way too classic. Cashmere? Seriously? But now that she had it on, it made her feel, what?
Grownup.
Feminine.
Pretty?
All of the above. And why not?
Brynne went back to her customer, and Gage and Micki moved on. “So,” she said. “It’s Thanksgiving weekend and you’re here rather than in Iowa. Why is that?”
He shrugged. “We have a lot to do here. Training center opens February first.”
Please. For every holiday she’d spent away from her home, she’d come up with a new reason she couldn’t make it back. Everything from a burgeoning sinus infection, too much work, couldn’t afford the flight, to . . . whatever. She’d used them all and the entire time, she’d known, down deep, that they’d never believed any of it. “Not buying it. All I’ve wanted for years was to spend a holiday with my family. And from what I saw with you mediating between your mom and dad, it seems like you’re close to them.”
“Just because I didn’t go home for a holiday doesn’t mean I don't miss them.”
One thing Micki understood, better than most, was secrets. Gage was hiding something and she was pretty sure it had something to do with those dizzy spells.
She wouldn’t pressure him, though. Bottom line? Even heroes hid things. “I’m not bugging you about it—”
“Not much.”
She smacked his arm. “But you’ve been nice to me. If you want to talk, I’m here.”
He halted, right in the middle of the sidewalk, and hooked on to her elbow. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Cherlyn. Twelve o’clock.”
The hand on her elbow moved to her back, his fingers gliding up her spine and sending a happy zing to parts of her body that had definitely not experienced any recent happy zings. Yowza, yowza, yowza.
“Um, what are you doing?”
He leaned in, got close to her ear, his warm breath sending you go, girl! alerts to her extremely neglected private parts.
“Roll with me here.”
Oh, she’d roll with him.
His fingers continued their climb until he reached her shoulder, where he casually draped that big hand and pulled her closer.
Whatever Gage had going on with Cherlyn, he clearly wanted the woman to believe he and Micki were playing House. Unable to resist, she reached up, linked her fingers with his, hanging on as they strolled.
“Gage Barber!”
Micki followed the voice, found a redhead who could be Cherlyn coming toward them, but Micki hadn’t seen her since high school. Back then, Cherlyn’s hair had been sandy blond and she’d worn heavy eye makeup. Her hair had changed, but the makeup hadn’t and Cherlyn, sadly, resembled a trashy thirty-two-year-old grappling with—and losing—her fading youth.
“Hey, Cherlyn,” Gage said, keeping his hand on Micki’s shoulder.
Cherlyn turned her icy blue eyes on Micki. “And is this Micki Steele? I’d know you anywhere.”
Micki wished she could say the same. “Hi, Cherlyn. How are you?”
“I’m good.” Her eyes went to Gage’s hand, then snapped back to Micki. “Are you visiting?”
“Sort of.” She gazed lovingly up at Gage. “I think I’ll stay a while. Maybe settle at home again.”
“Well,” she drawled, “you Steeles always did move quick.”
Gage coughed and put his free hand in front of his mouth, turning away to hide the laugh. Apparently, he was unaccustomed to cats.
“Well,” Micki mimicked, still gazing up at Gage, “when we see something we want, we don’t dawdle.”
The strum of a guitar streamed from speakers at
the end of the block. Wanting to be rid of Cherlyn and have Captain America to herself, Micki patted Gage’s hand. “Let’s head over and listen to the music. Cherlyn, I guess I’ll see you around town. You take care now.”
Micki saved his ass.
Small-town living sometimes created awkward situations, and Cherlyn had become a full-blown man-eater. Hell, he'd run out of polite ways to turn her down. Growing up, he’d perfected the art of riding the line between accommodating versus total asshole, but this challenged him.
With Cherlyn, as much as he didn’t want to, he might have to nudge into total asshole territory. The woman would not let up. If this had happened last year, his Special Forces buddies, guys who had stupid theories on women, would’ve told him to just do her and get it over with. The thought of that bunch of dumb-asses, him included, sitting around shooting the shit made him laugh, but the punch of loss was there. He didn’t spend a lot of time lamenting his injuries or questioning the sudden directional change of his life. Why bother? Nothing would change and he’d still not be fit for duty. Still, he didn’t mind admitting he missed his friends.
Micki bumped him with her elbow as they walked. “What’s funny?”
“I was thinking about the guys in my unit. And, by the way, thank you.”
Still with his arm around her shoulders, he squeezed her a wee bit closer. Really, he should take his mitts off of Reid’s sister. He’d been in this town long enough to know that tongues would be wagging. As soon as word got back to the Steeles, they’d close ranks and expect answers on his intentions.
Which, at the moment, were far from pure.
Micki—the girl who didn’t smile a lot—hit him with the trademark all-flash-and-glory Steele smile. That smile morphed her into a combination of Miss Joan, Jonah, and Reid. All in one. He saw bits of each of them in her—Jonah’s eyes, Reid’s carved face, Miss Joan’s nose. When Micki smiled all of it came together in one fantastic package that made the extremely male parts of him roar.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “It’s so odd to see some of these people now.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I still picture them ten years ago. Cherlyn used to be…” She paused, thought about it a sec. “…softer. The girl next door. I don’t see that now.”
Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5) Page 10