Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5)

by Adrienne Giordano

  The minute it went live, even before she heard, “We’ll get this woman,” she knew what it was. Remembered as if it were only yesterday, when, in fact, it had been years ago. Back when she’d still been young. Impressionable. Moldable.

  She didn’t speak or look at Gage. Couldn’t. Not yet. She simply watched, tapping into her emotions from that day and her anger toward the woman who’d wasted her chance at being the kind, loving, protective mother Micki had left behind.

  “You can turn it off,” she said.

  Gage studied her as if she were some bizarre lab experiment.

  She rolled her shoulders, willing the growing knot there to disappear. “What?”

  “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who told your family you didn’t get into the ugly stuff.”

  “Yes. But…”

  “Jesus, Micki.”

  “She neglected her children!”

  “She went to jail!”

  That stopped her cold. She’d known about the jail sentence. Remembered it so clearly. Remembered the horror of overhearing Phil celebrating the big win.

  It had been the first time, in her young mind anyway, she’d consciously confronted her own involvement. “I thought…”

  He waited for her to continue and then tossed up his hands. “What? How can you possibly defend this?”

  “I thought she was an abusive drug addict. Did you watch that part?”

  “What part?”

  Oh, Phil, you sneaky bastard. Standing there, in the dead center of Gage's office, she was caught. Stuck between two worlds. One where a foolish, loyal part of her had trusted Phil and the other, the new one that loomed just out of her reach and included a life with her family.

  Sneaky, sneaky bastard. Later, she’d deal with her emotions. The betrayal.

  “The part,” she forced the wobble from her voice, “right before I came out of the office. Where Phil told me she was an abusive drug addict. You didn’t see that part, did you?”

  Gage went silent.

  Unable to stop herself, she hit play again, let Phil’s vindictiveness take hold. Let it really sink in. She laughed, but it came out as a sarcastic scoff.

  Bastard. She waved one hand. “They clipped the video. That’s not all of it.”

  “What’s the rest?”

  At least he had the decency to let her explain. Whether he’d believe her or not, they’d see.

  “There was a part of me, a tiny little part, that wanted to believe Phil had a good heart. After all, he’d taken care of me for two years, set me up in a place to live, paid for my college courses, let me join his family parties so I wouldn’t miss my own home too much. He was good. A total ace. Groomed me beautifully.” She pointed to the laptop. “On that day, he’d called me into his office. He told me we had a client going through a nasty divorce. The wife was addicted to prescription meds and abusing their kids. For the children, he’d said, we had to prove the woman was an addict.”

  Gage pulled a face. “You took his word for it? Seriously?”

  “Don’t even look at me like that. Believe me, I’ve killed myself a hundred times over it. At the time, he knew exactly which buttons to push on me. He knew I had an exceptional mother. One that I missed.” She gritted her teeth, bit back anger that tore at her throat. “He put his finger on that button and pressed and pressed and pressed. By the time he was done, as you can see by how hyped I was, he’d convinced me to get her pharmacy records. That’s all I did. The pharmacy.”

  “Then how did she wind up in jail?”

  “That’s the horrifying part. Two years after this video was taken, I came back to the office after hours. I’d forgotten something in my desk. Phil and another guy I didn't know were there. They’d been slamming whiskey and were so drunk, they didn’t hear me come in. God, they were wasted. Just carrying on about what a great team they were. How unstoppable. I was about to call out because I knew Phil had the place wired and I didn’t want him thinking I was spying. Before I could say anything, that case came up. They were laughing and laughing and laughing about what they’d done.”

  Gage leaned in on his elbows, craning his neck. “I don’t understand.”

  Of course he didn’t. Neither had she.

  “I gave Phil the pharmacy records.”

  Gage held up a stack of papers. “I have your e-mails.”

  “Yes. We talked about her being an unfit mother. That was it. I didn’t e-mail the pharmacy records. I handed him hard copies. That was all I did. I swear to you. All the records showed was that she’d had a prescription for Oxy filled the year prior. A thirty-day supply. That was it.”

  “Then how did this woman wind up in jail for drug possession?”

  “They set her up. Phil got one of his snitches to get him a bunch of black market Oxy. They put it in a brown paper bag, broke into her house and hid the bag. Then they told the husband where they hid it. The husband was a local politician and practically gave the cops a map. Suddenly, their juicy divorce became a criminal case because, at the very least, she was hiding a huge stash that made it look like she'd been dealing.”

  “You didn’t say anything?”

  Mr. All-American needed to get a grip on reality. He wanted a twenty-two-year-old hiding secrets to go against Phil Flynn?

  The man would have crushed her.

  And her family.

  “The case was two years old. She was out of jail by then. What was I supposed to do? Go to the police? The ones Phil has in his pocket? I couldn’t do that.”

  “It was your chance to bring heat on him. To get away.”

  He didn’t believe her. She could see it on his face. The narrow-eyed skepticism. No matter what she said, he’d still have doubts.

  And she didn’t want that.

  She wanted him to look at her the way he had the night before. With hunger and want and…respect.

  “Um, Gage? You might have noticed, me getting away from Phil isn’t so easy.”

  Gage sat back and scrubbed both hands over his face. His attraction to Micki was fogging his brain. Smart Gage, the one who didn’t fall for anyone’s bullshit, would hand over all the documents and the thumb drive and walk her to the door. Bye-bye, Trouble.

  He’d never been a fool or an enabler and he had no interest in starting. And yet, he hadn’t shown Micki to the door.

  Thinking with his dick, that’s why.

  She stood on the other side of his desk in that same spot, completely still except for a glance or two at the door. Ready to run. The squirrel factor with this girl was undeniable.

  “I can see you don’t trust me,” she said.

  Trust? Really? After this, he didn’t know what to believe. “With what you have on this guy, you could expose him. The feds would eat him alive. Wiretapping alone would get the job done. Why won’t you turn him in?”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  Of course she couldn’t. No wonder her family didn’t understand her.

  He shoved the stack of e-mails into the folder, ejected the thumb drive, and handed it all over. “Take this.”

  Her brows drew together, but she made no move for the folder. “You’re not…”

  “Handing it to your family? No. It’s your business. I’m not the middleman. Get your shit together.”

  “Hey!”

  Blood pressure kicking, he slapped the folder on his desk. “Tell me I’m wrong. This guy followed you to North Carolina. He’s not going away. And every plan you’ve had so far has backfired. Spectacularly. Tell me, Micki, how am I supposed to help you if you won’t be straight with me? With anyone!”

  And holy shit he was screaming. When was the last time he’d hollered at someone like that? Years probably. Cool, calm Gage who never lost his temper was coming unglued. Excellent.

  “Whoa,” Reid said from the doorway, his eyes locked on him in the predatory way that meant he was about to kick some ass.

  Shit. He’d missed the door chime. What a shocker, with the way he’d been
hollering.

  “Why the hell are you tearing into my sister?”

  Micki spun back and faced Reid. “He’s not tearing into me. We’re talking.”

  “Mikayla, Suds doesn’t raise his voice. I know when he’s screaming.”

  The telltale folder still sat on the desk. A damned nuclear bomb ready to go off.

  Gage could make it happen. Force Micki to come clean and allow her family to help her.

  By showing Reid the file.

  He reached for the folder, set his hand on it. For her own good, he should. Before she fucked this thing up even more. The ramifications of that, without him knowing what kept this girl hostage, could devastate the Steeles. Something he wanted to avoid.

  Reid broke eye contact with Micki and slid his gaze to Gage’s hand on top of the folder. “What’s that?”

  Now or never. All of this could be over. Micki whipped back, color seeping from her cheeks, and a muscle in her jaw pulsed. Her pleading eyes though, they were the killer.

  Don’t. Gage picked up the folder, shoved it in a drawer. “Personal paperwork I need to deal with.”

  Reid angled his head to Micki. “You two gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Gage was asking me about Phil. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Finally moving, she pushed by Reid, who latched on to her jacket. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to Mom’s. I want some quiet.”

  “Don’t disappear.”

  Good luck with that.

  Still stewing over her conversation with Gage, Micki sat on her bed overseeing a scan of Phil's network for any available port she might sneak in through. Her mind wandered to the building just down the road.

  To Gage.

  And that blasted folder.

  Rather than hand over the evidence, he’d hidden it from Reid. Something he clearly had issues with, yet…he’d protected her.

  Most likely because he harbored his own secret. One Reid, who’d given him a job—an important job—wouldn’t be happy about.

  Micki and Gage. Two secretive liars.

  She picked up her phone, checked her texts. Nothing. Even the house had gone silent. And where the hell had Jonah been when she'd finally raked up the courage to tell him, after all this time, what was going on with Phil?

  A knock sounded. Probably Mom. “Come in, Mom.”

  The door swung open and Gage stood there, his perfect posture in place, his blond hair a little rumpled from the wind, and Micki’s heart did a whump, whump. Even when mad she couldn’t resist the pull of him.

  In his hand he held what looked like the folder containing her telltale e-mails.

  She sat taller and pushed her shoulders back. “Hi. Sorry. Thought you were my mom. Come in.”

  He gestured to the door. “Can I close this?”

  “Sure. Jonah’s not here. It’s just Mom and I.”

  “I know. She was out on the porch when I came in.” He held up the file. “I came to give you this.”

  He moved closer, that long body of his filling the space in the room, his presence alone giving comfort when just seconds before the isolation, the return to her own pathetic brand of normalcy, had offered that same calm.

  Carefully, as if it was capable of inflicting great damage, he set the folder on the bed. He made a move to step away, but she grabbed his wrist and held on. The heat of his skin poured into her and her mind hissed.

  You don’t deserve him.

  What else was new? “Thank you.”

  “It’s yours. You should have it.”

  “Not for that. For not…telling.”

  He met her gaze and held it. “We all have secrets, don’t we?”

  “I suppose.” She patted the bed. “Please sit.”

  When he took her up on it, she nodded. “You were right. Phil has something on me. I don’t know what to do about it, but I’ve been living with it. I’ve been alone because of it.”

  “So talk to me. Talk to anyone in this house. Let us help you.”

  She nodded. It all sounded so easy. “I know I have to. Coming here made me realize what I’ve been missing. And last night, with you? It felt so good. You really have no idea.” She stopped, let out a sigh. “Will you help me?”

  “With what?”

  “I need to tell my family everything. But I’m scared. And tired and…I don't want to live like this anymore.”

  There. She’d said it. Finally. After all this time, she’d finally admitted how vulnerable she felt.

  He pulled out of her grasp and hauled her onto his lap. He met her eyes for a few long seconds, that intense crystal-blue gaze paralyzing her before it drifted lower, to her lips, making her yearn for things she shouldn’t yearn for.

  She wiggled closer, felt the growing bulge under her butt cheek and oh wow. He wanted her.

  Someone wanted her.

  She looped one arm around his neck, pressed her breasts into him and buried her head in his shoulder.

  “Dang it,” he said, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  She wiggled her butt to let him know she was on to him. “I could think of a couple of things. I mean, if you're really stumped.”

  His chest rumbled with a low laugh and he tipped her backward, kissing her softly. A gentle brush of his lips before angling his body over hers on the bed. “Your mother is downstairs.”

  “You said she’s on the porch.”

  “Still disrespectful. Your family has been good to me. Besides, I’m not interested in a quickie. I’d like to take my time with you.” He grinned down at her. “Let’s get out of here for a while and figure out what you need to do. We’ll go to my place.”

  His place. She’d like that. Very much. She arched her hips, felt the pressure of his erection. Oh, she wanted that bad boy inside her. Too long she’d been alone.

  “Micki!” Mom yelled from downstairs.

  Gage hopped off the bed like he’d been zapped with a prod.

  “Jesus,” he said, “I feel like I’m fifteen again.”

  The two of them laughed and Micki rolled to her feet, smacked him on the butt, and opened her bedroom door. “What is it, Mom?”

  “You have a visitor,” Mom said from the bottom of the stairs. “Your boss is here!”

  13

  Micki left Gage standing in her bedroom and tore down the steps. She hit the bottom with her heart slamming and her head whirling.

  Phil here.

  No doubt to bring her back.

  She swung around the bannister and spotted her mother returning to the kitchen. Phil’s quiet laugh followed.

  Sweat poured down her back as she whipped through the hallway into the kitchen. Just ahead, Phil sat at the giant farm table looking totally out of place in his suit and perfectly gelled salt-and-pepper hair, drinking something—probably tea, knowing him—out of one of her mother’s delicate cups.

  A squeaking floorboard alerted him to her presence and he turned, his lips spreading into a wide, welcoming, aw-I-missed-you smile, but the truth was in his eyes.

  Cold eyes the color of a stormy night sky that somehow burned right into her. Quaking limbs slowed her pace, but she kept moving. Buck up, here. Don’t let him control this.

  From behind, a gentle hand landed on her back and she yelped. She spun back, found Gage on her heels.

  “Gage,” Mom said, “I thought you were gone.”

  “No, ma’am. I was talking to Micki.”

  “Well, sit down. Let me make you something to eat.”

  He held up his hand. “No need. Thank you.”

  Phil eyed Gage and stood, holding his arms wide for Micki. She pasted on a smile and rather than get into anything in front of Mom, took the coward’s way out and stepped into a stiff embrace.

  Phil brought his lips to her ear. “Don’t fuck with me,” he whispered, his voice tinged with that threatening tone reserved for shakedowns. “I know what you're doing. You'll never get in. Trust me.”

  Obviously, he knew—or
assumed—she'd been poking around on his network. Looking for more evidence she could use against him. Buck up.

  Her territory now. Too bad all the boys weren’t present, but Gage was. And from the way he leaned on the kitchen counter, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Micki slid out of Phil’s hold and smiled brightly. “How was Mexico?”

  “Enlightening,” he said.

  His gaze drifted to Gage, who stepped forward, hand held out. “Gage Barber.”

  He stood a good four inches taller than Phil and with that rigid military I-own-you posture firmly in place, Micki sensed a power shift.

  Or maybe she wanted to believe that.

  Phil shook his hand and nodded. “Phil Flynn.”

  “I know,” Gage said.

  Oh, boy.

  Gage went back to his spot at the counter, folding his arms over his chest.

  Sensing the tension, Mom swung her head between them. “Uh, can I get anyone anything?”

  “No, Mom. Thank you.”

  “Your mother,” Phil said, “was just telling me how you liked to bake when you were younger. I never knew that.”

  Because you never asked.

  “Yes,” Micki said. “She taught me. I’ve gotten away from it over the years.” She looked back at her mom. “Maybe it’s time to start again.”

  “That would be great. I’ve always enjoyed home-baked goods. You’d have a most appreciative boss if you were to bring cookies to the office. I was just saying how much we miss you when you’re gone.”

  He angled his head, waiting for the response he’d conditioned her to give. The one that would have her leaping from her chair to accompany him back to Vegas.

  Behind her, Gage cleared his throat and they all looked at him. Just the sight of him fired something inside her. She had work to do with him. Trust to earn back. And if she left with Phil, Gage would know she was a liar. A woman who could work for a man like Phil and put innocent people in prison.

  No. She wouldn’t be that person anymore. Couldn’t do it. All of it needed to stop.

  “Mom, would you mind giving me a second with Phil?”

  “Of course,” Mom said. “I have clothes to fold anyway. Y'all let me know if you need anything.”