Boss on Notice

by Janet Lee Nye

  She opened the door and he stepped through, smelling of leather and man. He pulled her into his arms and pushed the door shut behind him.

  “Lock it,” she said quickly.

  He reached back and flipped the lock without breaking eye contact. “Better?”

  “The chain?”

  He slid the chain into place and turned her in his arms so she was pressed against the door. He put his forehead against hers and looked down into her eyes. “I’m not going to kiss you until you tell me why you made me do that.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m not going to tell you until you tell me why you’re here.”

  “Anatomy lessons. Your turn.”

  “No. I mean why you changed your mind about just once.”

  He stepped back, his hands still warm on her shoulders. “You changed your mind, too.”

  “You changed your mind first.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  He lifted a hand and traced his fingers along the curve of her cheek and across her lips. Her breath hitched in and out of her lungs. “No,” she whispered.

  “Tell me why.”

  “Habit.”

  “No kiss.”

  Oh? No kiss? Who was he kidding? “Fine. No kiss.” She lifted the hem of his shirt and drew a finger along the ridge dividing his abdominal muscles. The muscles twitched beneath her light touch. “We’ll begin the lesson here.” She traced her finger around one of the six-pack of muscles there. “This is the tendinous intersection.”

  He went perfectly still, his eyes fixed on hers. “Cheater,” he whispered.

  She smiled as she pulled at the hem of his shirt. “Off. Can’t continue the lesson with this in the way.” He flung the shirt off in one fluid motion. She slipped her fingers around his waist to his spine. “External obliques. Latissimus dorsi.”

  Her fingers dropped to the button of his jeans and he pulled her to him with a groan. “You win,” he whispered and brought his lips down on hers.

  “OKAY. THAT WAS even better than last night. How is that even possible?”

  “The anatomy lesson you gave me. It was very inspiring.”

  Mickie laughed and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Don’t make me laugh so loud.”

  Josh rolled to his side. “Laughing isn’t the only thing you were being loud about.”

  Covering her face with her hands, Mickie groaned. Lifting her hands away, she looked over at his face.

  He traced a finger along the curve of her cheek. “Why do you look sad all of a sudden?”

  “I’m not. Not really. Just a little.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged and sat up, reaching out for her scattered clothes. They’d never quite made it out of the living room. “Because. You’re a nice guy. And you are fantastic in bed.”

  “Well, we haven’t actually been in a bed yet.”

  She threw his shirt at him. “You know what I mean. It’s just a little sad that we met each other at the absolute wrongest time of our lives.”

  Josh froze in the middle of reaching for his jeans. You let it go on too long. “We both have a lot of things going on in our lives,” he said carefully.

  “Please,” Mickie said as she pulled her yoga pants back on. “Stop staring at me like I dropped the L word on you or something. I know what this is. I can think you’re an awesome guy and be sad when I have to move on without expecting some kind of long-term commitment.”

  Relief flooded him. He didn’t want to hurt Mickie. The very idea of hurting her brave little heart made him flinch. “Are you going to be moving on soon, then?”

  She looked up at him. “Now you’re the one sounding sad.”

  “Yeah. I’ll miss you guys a little.”

  “A little. Gosh. Thanks.”

  “Okay. A lot.”

  “Aww. You’re so sweet.” Standing, she pulled on her T-shirt. “Want something to drink? Water? I’ve got some sweet tea.”

  “Water’d be good.”

  He busied himself gathering his own scattered clothes while she was in the kitchen. This had been a mistake. He needed to stop. It wasn’t her. It was him. He was having thoughts and feelings he shouldn’t be having. He needed to back off. Keep his distance. Because it wasn’t her inching toward the L word. It was him. He rubbed a hand across his lips. No. That’s not it. You’re just all mixed up about the graves and Kim.

  Her phone buzzed as she came back into the room. She looked down at it and froze. Her gaze shifted from the phone to Josh. “Answer that for me.”

  “Why?”

  “Please?”

  He raised his eyebrows but grabbed the phone. “Hello?” His eyes never left hers. “Hello? Anyone there?” He ended the call. “No one there. What’s going on, Micks?”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she shook her head. “I don’t know. I keep getting calls from unknowns but they never leave a message.”

  Josh stood. “Same number?”

  “No. Different numbers.”

  “Weird.”

  She dropped her hands. “Yeah. Weird.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. She’d looked terrified when the phone rang. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head and handed him a glass of water. She curled up in the armchair. “Nothing,” she mumbled but her eyes were focused on the floor.

  “Mickie...”

  She smiled up at him. “It’s okay, Josh. Really. Multiple unknown numbers are odd. I don’t like odd.”

  “Probably a telemarketer or something.”

  “Okay. Yeah. Probably nothing.”

  “Want me to stay and really help you study?”

  “No. Go home. It’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MICKIE WAS GRATEFUL for the morning chaos of the Crew coming in to get the day started. It gave her something to concentrate on other than Josh. Because she had to stop thinking about Josh. That was done and over with. She’d gotten a couple bonus orgasms and that was all well and good but that was it. They had to quit playing this just-sex game. Or at least she did. Because her feelings were trying to sneak over that line she’d drawn.

  After everyone had left and she was alone, she was better able to focus. Check email, answer the ones she could, leave others for Josh. Answer calls, schedule appointments. Check the online applicants, send promising candidates to Josh. Once she had all the tasks done, she pulled out the stack of study cards. This truly was an easy job. Essentially, Josh was paying her to sit here all day and answer phones.

  See, there was another point. He was such a nice guy. She shook her head. Nope. No. You have a plan. Stick to the plan, Mickie. Stick to the plan. She pulled a card off the top of the pile. “Side effects of Zoloft,” she said. “Um. Ugh. Insomnia. Dizziness. Decreased sex drive.”

  Flipping over the card, she made an exasperated noise. Three out of ten. “Gotta do better, girl, you’ve got to do better.”

  An hour later, she put down the cards. “That’s it,” she announced to the empty room. “I’m going to fail. I’m never going to graduate. I’m entirely too stupid for this. I’ll never be a nurse.”

  She propped her chin in her hands. This wouldn’t be so bad. She’d just be Josh’s secretary for the rest of her life. She could do this. She’d be poor and never actually do anything like buy a car or a house. But that’d be okay. She made a face. Nope. She had to get away from Josh. It was more than the scorching-hot sex and the fact that he was a nice guy. He was a wounded soul. And she knew enough to understand that wounded souls were a huge personality trigger for caregiver types. Nurses loved their wounded ones. But the wounded ones didn’t love back.

  “Ah,” she said, disgusted with herself. “Stop wallowing.
It’s lunchtime.”

  Her phone vibrated on the desk as she stood. Unknown. She stared at it, barely able to breathe, frozen on the spot. Don’t let it freak you out, Josh had said. But it was freaking her out. Because if...

  She stepped back from the desk. No. Do not even let your thoughts go there. But they went there anyway. He’d found her. Found them. He was toying with her now. Biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to...

  “Stop it,” she said loudly, her voice echoing in the small kitchen. Her thoughts quieted, but the adrenaline flooding her body did not. Hands shaking, heart pounding, she sank back in the chair. Okay. So what if it’s true? You need a plan. You need something better than running away again.

  That guy! She stood. That private investigator guy who helped Josh find his sister. What was his name? Wyatt? Maybe she could call him. Ask him if it was possible. She took a few hesitant steps toward the hall. She couldn’t ask Josh. He’d want to know why. Maybe he had a phone number in his office.

  She hesitated at the door. It was open but it seemed like snooping. Do it for Ian, Mickie. You can’t be a good mother living in fear and running all the time. She stepped through the door and looked around. Josh had two desks set up. One was his work desk. The other was where job applicants took the personality tests. She’d been in this room a dozen times. Why was her heart pounding? Because you are snooping. If she could just remember Wyatt’s last name, she could Google him.

  The top of Josh’s desk was a mess of papers and stacks of envelopes. Pulling back the chair, she sat down. His email would probably be the best place, but she didn’t have a password for that and she most certainly was not going to attempt it. Do people even keep real address books anymore?

  She moved some of the papers so she could see the desk calendar below. That was no help. On the day Wyatt had come, there was merely a W written. Slowly, she pulled open the center drawer.

  “What are you doing?”

  She froze at the sound of Josh’s voice. Guilt and shame sloshed in her gut. She felt her cheeks burn. She pushed the drawer shut and turned around.

  He stood just inside the door, hands on his hips, a frown creasing his forehead. She lurched to her feet. “I... I’m sorry. I was looking for...something.”

  He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms against his chest. “So what’s up with the guilty look?”

  “I was...” Her words trailed off. She was going to have to tell him. She needed to know. She had to talk to Wyatt. She tried to meet Josh’s eyes. “I was looking for a phone number for that private investigator guy you know.”

  “Wyatt? Really? Why do you need to talk to him?”

  She dropped her gaze to the floor and pressed her lips together. “I just do.”

  Josh crossed the room in a few long strides. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Mickie. Look at me.”

  She lifted her head, feeling tears stinging at her eyes. Tears of shame. She couldn’t bear to look into his eyes. Couldn’t bear to watch what emotion she might see there.

  “Is this about the unknown phone calls?”

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Her throat felt tight and she twisted slightly away from Josh’s hands. “Yes,” she said and cleared her throat.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I lied to you.”

  “About what?”

  She looked at him then. He looked puzzled, not angry. “About the scars. The chest tube scars.”

  “I don’t get what you’re saying. They aren’t chest tube scars?”

  She perched at the edge of the desk, her arms wrapped around herself as tight as she could. To keep the trembling under some control. “Yes. They are. But I didn’t get them in a car accident. I was beaten. Kicked until my ribs broke.”

  The look of stunned horror on his face was a familiar one to her. Anyone who heard her story had the same look. “Who did that to you, Mickie?” His voice was a ragged whisper.

  She turned her head away, unable to answer.

  “Ian’s father?”

  She forced herself to nod.

  “Jesus Christ, Micks.”

  “He was...controlling. I was young and stupid. When I got pregnant, he wanted me to get an abortion. I didn’t want to.”

  This was where she would see the pulling away of empathy. Where she would see the judgment. Sometimes faint, sometimes outright and damning, but it was always there. It was somehow partly her fault for being with such a man. She kept her eyes on the floor because she didn’t want to see that judgment in Josh’s eyes. That, she couldn’t bear.

  He said nothing but she could feel the warmth of him as he came closer. His hand tenderly slipped across her shoulders, pulling her lightly against her side. “Do you think he’s found you? Is that what this is?”

  The words. Those words. Said out loud like that. The fear she never really let herself feel. Blindly, she turned to Josh, letting him fold her in his arms. Crying against his broad chest, she tried to explain. She tried to tell him that she didn’t know. She just felt like something wasn’t right. Like the brush of a spiderweb against the skin, something was there.

  Josh said nothing. He just held on to her, rocking her from side to side. When she started to get herself under control, he loosened his hold. She felt his lips press against her forehead. “We’ll call Wyatt. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Okay?”

  She nodded and wiped at her face. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  The genuine confusion in his voice made her look up. Why? Because she was pathetic. Dragging her drama around like a chain. Dumping her dirty past in his lap. “I didn’t want to get you involved in any of this.”

  “Hey,” he said. His voice was stern. “Look here. You are one of us. You are part of the Crew. The Crew is family. We are here for each other.”

  “Don’t tell the others.”

  “I won’t. I’ll call Wyatt and tell him what you need. You can give him all the details.”

  * * *

  JOSH SENT MICKIE home early. Glad to have her out of his sight. If he’d ever thought he could have a relationship, she was walking, living proof of why he couldn’t. She’d survived one monster. A monster so horrible, he tried to kill her for carrying his child. She didn’t need another.

  No. He’d never risk her, or any woman, to suffer that. And Ian. He was only a baby. He didn’t deserve... He twisted away from his thoughts with a physical jerk. Okay. We have a problem. Let’s fix it. He could do that. What he couldn’t do was continue this fantasy he’d been nurturing. The one where he wasn’t the monster. A bitter laugh ripped at his throat. Dream on.

  He wanted to wait until after hours, when Wyatt would be done with his work at the insurance company, but the visions that were haunting him, of Mickie being viciously beaten and kicked, played over and over and over in his mind. He had to know she was safe.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?” Wyatt answered the call with a warmth and ease that felt jarring against the turmoil of Josh’s emotions.

  “I need help.”

  “Talk to me.”

  The instant transformation wasn’t lost on Josh, even in his desperation. Some of the weight lifted. He had people who were there for him. At a moment’s notice. Sadie. DeShawn. Now Wyatt.

  He filled in Wyatt on the story Mickie had told him. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but she’s scared. It’s a gut thing. She’s feeling it. I felt it.”

  “Gut things are usually right,” Wyatt told him. “I can clear some time and come up tomorrow to talk to her.”

  “I don’t know if that’s necessary. I don’t want to put you out. Maybe a phone call?”

  “No. I don’t have a lot of experience as a PI with domestic violence, but I had enough as a cop. If she feels something is wrong, we need to check it ou
t.”

  “Only if it won’t cause a problem. I’ll pay your normal rate. Whatever.”

  There was a long pause. Josh felt his face go hot as the implication of his words sunk in.

  “You have some interest in this, Josh? Other than helping a temporary, part-time employee out?”

  “No,” he lied. “She’s a Crew member. We protect our own.”

  “If you say so. How’s the security there?”

  “Nonexistent. I know she recently started using a bar on the back door. Double locks on front. And she has a baseball bat now.”

  “Started? Now? Are these new things?”

  Josh thought back. Were they new? “I noticed them right away the other night, but I hadn’t noticed before, so I’d say yes.”

  “Think she’d use the bat?”

  Josh paused, thinking. “Yeah,” he said after a while. “For the kid.”

  “Okay. I’ll come up tomorrow afternoon. I don’t like that she’s adding security to the place. Something is worrying her. But I’m going to have to get all the gory details from her. Names, dates—everything. Is she ready?”

  “I think so. I think she’s been running for a long time and wants to stop.”

  After finishing the call with Wyatt, he called Mickie. She was on the street—he could tell by the traffic sounds. Pushing Ian in the stroller. Along a busy street. He shook his head. He couldn’t buy in to her paranoia.

  “Wyatt is coming to talk to you tomorrow,” he said. “Are you going to be okay until he gets here?”

  “Yeah. I feel kind of silly now. All of you are going out of your way for what’s probably nothing.”

  “Don’t. Even Wyatt agreed gut feelings need to be looked into.”

  “Okay. I appreciate this, Josh. I really do.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “No. It’s pretty much everything.”

  She ended the call, leaving him staring at the phone. Everything. What was that supposed to mean? And why had he been contemplating asking her if she wanted to stay over at his place tonight? She and Ian could have his bed. He’d sleep on the couch.

  Before he could chase that thought too far down the rabbit hole, the phone rang. Sadie. Great. Thanks, Wyatt.