If anybody went to jail today, it would be him.
Charlie moved the toothpick he’d been chewing from one side of his mouth the other, then said, “Sounds to me like this was a bad deal from the start, Micky. You never were a good liar. It’s what made you such a good soldier.”
Mick swallowed. “Thanks, Gramps.”
“Of course, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad to see you out of the military. Too much action there for a guy like you. I knew you’d never settle down, find a wife and have a few babies so long as you were a Ranger.”
Startled, Mick looked up.
“Don’t look so scared, boy,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Granted loving a woman is a helluva lot more terrifying than war, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.” He paused. “You need any help with that Simmons guy? I may be old, but I ain’t dead yet. I’ve decided it’s time to start living that way.”
Pleased, Mick grinned. “Thanks, Gramps, but I’ll handle it. I’d hate for you to miss any of the festival.”
His grandfather clapped him on the back. “Don’t you know it. I can’t wait to get one of those blackberry fried pies you told me about. They’re the talk of the town.”
Whistling tunelessly with a promise to see him later, Charlie made his way down the sidewalk and headed to the square. Sarah Jane, he knew, was already there, setting up and getting ready. Mick instinctively knew his grandfather would love her. She just had that way about her.
In fact, the best he could tell the only people in town who didn’t care for her were Chastity--who was jealous--and Cecil Simmons, who was screwing Chastity, so disliked her by association. Mick’s expression blackened.
It was time for both of them to leave his girl alone.
And good old Cecil was about to find that out the hard way.
Determined to catch Cecil in his office before he too left for the festival, Mick quickly made his way to the man’s place of business.
The receptionist looked up when he walked in. “Good morning, can I help you?”
Mick grinned at her. “I sure hope so,” he said, going into full-blown aw-shucks southern gentleman mode. “I don’t have an appointment, but could really use just a moment of Mr. Simmons time. Would he happen to be available?”
She frowned. “I’m afraid he’s finishing up a few things before he leaves to judge in the festival. Perhaps Monday would be better?”
Mick winced. “It really can’t wait. I’ll only take a minute of his time.” He aimed another smile at her, pleased when he saw her hesitate. “I promise,” he added.
“All right,” she relented. “Come with me.” She knocked on Cecil’s door. “Mr. Simmons, you’ve got a client here to see you. A Mr.--“ she looked over her shoulder at him, waiting for him to fill in the blank “--Chivers,” Mick said.
“I thought you said I didn’t have any appoint--“
Mick pushed through the door and carefully closed it before Cecil could get any further. He leveled a hard stare at the portly older man, taking note of the weak chin and receding hairline. He inwardly snorted. Definitely an easy mark for Chastity.
“Do you know who I am?” Mick asked.
There was a brief flicker of recognition before Cecil made the wrong choice and lied to him. “I’m afraid not,” he said, smiling indulgently.
Mick walked forward and planted both fists on Cecil’s desk and leaned in. “Then allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mick Chivers, former Ranger. I’ve been trained in lethal force and can break your neck before you can blink.” His voice hardened. “More importantly, I’m the man who’s going to beat the hell out of you until you produce George Walker’s Last Will and Testament. Am I making myself clear?”
His gaze narrowed. “Is this a test? Did Chastity send you here?”
“I don’t work for Chastity, Mr. Simmons.” He slammed his fist into his face, sending him reeling backward. Blood spurted from his nose--probably broken, Mick thought, tickled that he’d gotten to hit someone because it actually made him feel better--and Cecil cried out in pain.
“Here’s the way this is going to work,” Mick explained. “You’re going to get me that will so that I don’t hit you again, and I’m going to promise not to have you disbarred for withholding it to start with.”
The color leached from his face. “What? I--“
Mick came at him again.
“I’ll get it!” Cecil screamed, cowering away from him.
“Mr. Simmons?” the receptionist called worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“Tell her you’re fine,” Mick said.
“I’m fine, Melissa,” he returned in carrying nasal-like tones.
“Now get the will,” Mick ordered.
Handkerchief clutched against his face, Cecil ignored the filing cabinet and instead made his way to a bookcase on the far wall. He withdrew a leather-bound book--The Count of Monte Cristo, Mick realized, one of his favorite reads--and from within its pages, pulled a single velum envelope.
Very reluctantly, Simmon’s handed it over.
Mick quickly withdrew the contents and after a brief scan, his gaze once again found Cecil’s. His lips twisted bitterly. “Well, I can see why Chastity wasn’t happy with this arrangement. She got a five-thousand dollar settlement and the car and Sarah Jane got everything else.”
“She can fight it,” Cecil said, drawing himself up.
“Oh? And who’s going to represent that claim? You?” Mick grinned again. “I doubt it. But let me tell you what you are going to do. You are personally going to reimburse Sarah Jane every penny above that five grand Chastity has gone through.”
His eyes widened in panic, no doubt tallying up the plastic surgery and new car and the deposit on the new vacation home. “What? No! I can’t possibly--“
“You can and you will, or I’ll see to it that you’re disbarred. The end. You don’t have a choice, Cecil. You let Chastity take that away from you. Another protest and we’ll tack some emotional distress bucks on for Sarah Jane. After all, you’ve put her through hell.”
The older man seemed to deflate before him. He had the most bewildered look. Lost, stupid and miserable. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”
Mick doubted whether he’d been thinking at all, but kept that tidbit to himself. Will in hand, he walked to the door, then stopped short as another thought struck. “One more thing. If her pie is the best, it wins. No taking this out on her.”
Cecil drew himself up, as though his honor had been impugned. “Of course,” he said. “I take my judging duties very seriously.”
“Yeah, well, you’d have a lot more money right now if you’d given your lawyering duties the same attention.” And with that parting shot, Mick left.
It was time to hand it over, then do her an even bigger favor and get the hell out of her life before he managed to screw it up as well. His chest ached at the very thought and an odd pang pricked his conscience, but he straightened his spine and determinedly ignored both.
Man up, Chivers, he told himself. If it was easy, then it wouldn’t be right, would it?
* * *
Sarah Jane didn’t know what had happened between last night and early this morning, but somewhere in between Mick had gotten...quiet.
And quiet, quite frankly, scared the hell out of her.
Her gaze slid to him now and, though she could tell he was happy that she’d won her fourth consecutive victory for her blackberry fried pie, she could feel him pulling away. Retreating.
“Landsakes, girl, I think this is the best dessert I’ve ever put in my mouth,” Charlie Chivers, Mick’s grandfather, who’d arrived unexpectedly, told her. “I’ll admit that peach used to be my favorite, but there’s something in this that just makes it a little bit better.” He took another bite and frowned thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t tell me, now would you?”
Charmed, Sarah Jane grinned. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s a family secret.”
He looked at his grandson, then
glanced back at her and a twinkle lit those familiar blue eyes. “I can wait,” he said mysteriously. Smiling, Sarah Jane felt a faint frown crease her brow.
Mick sidled forward, his own eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Why do I feel like he’s getting me in trouble?”
“I’m not getting you into trouble,” Charlie said. He snorted. “You do enough of that on your own without any help.”
“Thanks, Gramps,” Mick told him. “Glad to know you’ve always got my back.”
Merely chuckling, Charlie wandered over to Mabel’s booth.
“Tina doesn’t seem to be taking losing too hard,” Mick said, jerking his head in her friend’s direction. Chase had arrived at their booth the minute the festival opened and, despite her protests, bought every single one of her pineapple cream cheese pies, determined that Mark Higgins--or any other man for that matter--wasn’t going to get another bite of Tina’s food.
Sarah Jane grinned, glad that Chase seemed to be coming around. “I’d say she’s happier winning Chase back than a blue ribbon.”
Mick inclined his head. He hesitated and in that moment she could have sworn she heard her heart break. She knew what was coming. Instinctively knew that whatever he had to say was going to hurt her.
“Listen, Sarah Jane, I was wondering if we could go somewhere and talk for a moment.”
Er...no. If she stayed here she could keep it together. If she walked away with him, then who knew what she would do? Make a fool of herself? Scream, cry, ask for another consolation prize?
She shook her head and pretended like she didn’t think anything was ominous about his request when in reality she could already feel her legs shaking. “Actually, I don’t need to leave my booth.”
He nodded. “Oh.”
“Is something wrong?”
He laughed darkly. “With you? No. With me? Everything.” He looked away, smiled as he watched his grandfather shamelessly flirt with Mabel. He released a breath, then withdrew a long white envelope from his front pocket and handed it to her. His knuckles were scraped and bore the tell-tale signs of a recent fight. “I went to see Cecil this morning and I got this for you.”
Sarah Jane’s fingers went numb and her heart rate kicked into an irregular rhythm. Her father’s will? Stunned, her gaze flew to his. “Mick,” she breathed.
“He’s going to pay you back for every cent above what Chastity was supposed to get, otherwise I have promised to do everything in my power to have him disbarred.” He made a sound of disgust. “It’s no wonder she didn’t want you to see it. I don’t know if this was the will you saw, but in this one Chastity only gets five-thousand dollars and your father’s car. That’s it.”
Sarah Jane sank down onto her stool and carefully reviewed the paperwork. It was just as Mick had said. “No,” she told him, swallowing hard. “This isn’t the will I saw. Dad had left her life insurance proceeds and part of his retirement.” She shook her head, flabbergasted. “He must have changed his mind, must have--“ She stopped short as a handwritten note slipped from the pages. She instantly recognized her father’s masculine scrawl and a huge lump welled in her throat, making her gasp for breath.
You were always my first girl. I hope this proves it.
Love, Dad
That was it. Simple and to the point, a wealth of meaning behind a few little words. But that was her dad. Though she’d suspected that he’d realized he’d made a mistake, he was too proud to admit it to her face. Instead, generous as always, he’d done this instead.
Sarah Jane blinked back tears and looked up at Mick. “Thank you,” she said, her voice clogged with unshed emotion. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”
Mick swallowed, shifted awkwardly. “You don’t have to. I just couldn’t leave without making sure that you had it.”
And there it was. She cleared her throat, inwardly braced herself. She knew this about him. Knew that he was restless, knew that ever trying to put a bit or bridle on him was an act of futility. She’d been telling herself this since the first minute she saw him and multiple times a day ever since. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah,” he said. He laughed, but the sound was brittle and forced, completely unnatural. So unlike him. “I’ve, uh... I’ve got to get a resume together, start looking for a job.”
“I’m hiring,” Sarah Jane said, laying it all on the line. She didn’t make a joke, didn’t so much as crack a smile. She was serious and he knew it.
Pain sliced across his woefully familiar face. “Sarah Jane, I--“
“You don’t have to decide now, Mick,” she said. “But you’re a great carpenter and we work well together. Think about it,” she said. “That’s all I’m asking.”
He seemed to be wrestling with a decision. His jaw worked and the ever-present shadow he never seemed to be able to shake seemed to darken around him. “I have thought about it, Sarah Jane.” A bark of ironic laughter broke up in his throat. “The thing is, everything I seem to touch lately turns to hell and I... I can’t let that happen to you.”
So he was saving her, was he? she thought, instantly irritated. Thank God, Sarah Jane thought. Something she could get angry over. Of all the crack-brained, ridiculous testosterone horseshit.
“Listen, Mick, while I appreciate the sentiment, I’m a big girl. I can look out for myself. If you want to bail on us--“ she gestured between them “--on this, whatever’s happening here, then at least pay me the courtesy of admitting that you’re a coward or you’re just not interested. Don’t tell me you’re saving me from you, because that’s total bullshit.”
Though he didn’t move a muscle, she felt the change in him. That perpetual tension hit a breaking point. “Bullshit, eh? How’s this for bullshit? You want to why I left the military, Sarah Jane? I’ll tell you why. Because I made a bad call and sent a man over a ridge and almost got him killed, that’s why.” His voice vibrated with self-loathing and pain and her heart ached for him. “I almost cost a wife her husband and his children their father, because I ordered him to take the risk. I went too far and he almost paid the price.”
Sarah Jane felt her voice soften. “Mick, you couldn’t have known--“
He laughed darkly. “I know, and yet nobody seems to understand that it doesn’t make a difference.” He paused. “Another friend helped land me the placement with Ranger Security. First assignment, what do I do? I cross the line and get personally involved with you.”
“Surely you don’t think--“
“I know it was the right thing to do, Sarah Jane,” Mick explained, passing a weary hand over his face. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I have botched another job and, while I haven’t ruined a friendship, I sure as hell haven’t done it any favors. I feel like I have betrayed another trust.”
Though she knew it was futile, Sarah Jane had to argue with him. She had to try and make him understand. “Mick, what you’re describing is life, not bad luck or a losing streak. Life is messy, it’s complicated. You get dirty. You get knocked down, then you pick yourself up again.” She reached out and cupped his woefully familiar jaw. She lowered her voice. “These are set-backs, not a permanent way of life.”
“Whatever my life is, Sarah Jane, it’s a mess right now and it’s not fair to drag you into it. I’m sorry.” He exhaled heavily, then kissed her cheek and turned and walked away. She watched him find his grandfather and tell him something, which made the older gentleman frown and look back at her, then he’d shook his head in apology and had followed Mick away from the festivities.
Just her luck, Sarah Jane thought. She finally found a guy she could fall in love with and the fool believed he was being noble by abandoning her. Tears burned the backs her lids and a lump the size of Arkansas swelled in her throat.
Tina wandered back into their booth. “Well, you were right,” she announced happily. “Our evil planned worked. Chase has--“ She drew up short, evidently realizing that the world Mick was determined to keep in tact for her, ironically, had just d
etonated because of him. “Sarah Jane, what’s wrong?”
“You were right, too,” she said. “S-sitting on G, w-waiting on O.” She swallowed tightly. “He’s gone.”
Tina inhaled sharply. “Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Sarah Jane managed a watery smile and rattled the will significantly.
Her friend’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yep.” She snagged a napkin and blew her nose. “Come on,” she said. “I’m going to console myself by evicting Chastity.”
Then she’d work on evicting Mick from her heart.
CHAPTER 15
One month later...
Still a bit in shock, Mick helped his grandfather load the last of his stuff onto the moving truck, then stepped back and closed the door. “I guess that’s got it, Gramps.” Mick kicked at a loose pebble in the driveway. “Are you sure about this?”
“How many times have I got to answer that question?” Charlie grumped. “I’m moving. I’m taking Morgan Freeman’s advice from Shawshank Redemption. ‘Member that line? Get busy living or get busy dying.”
Mick swallowed a long-suffering sigh. Yes, he remembered. He’d only heard it about a dozen times over the past three weeks.
“Since I ain’t ready to die, I reckon I’ll live and I don’t want to live here anymore, which I have explained to you repeatedly.” Charlie paused and scratched his head. “Usually you ain’t so thick. I don’t know what you’re problem is. You’ve been in a terrible mood lately. A real funk.”
“I’m not thick,” Mick explained, summoning patience. “I just think you’re making a snap decision based on Mabel’s fried chicken and an annual festival centered around a dessert.”
Honestly, when his grandfather had announced that he was moving to Monarch Grove--into Sarah Jane’s old house, no less--Mick couldn’t have been any more stunned than if he’d suddenly announced he was going to start buying a foreign made vehicle or off to march in a Gay Pride parade. Citing the need to be alone, when Mick had left Monarch Grove his grandfather--despite an interesting run in with Byron which had involved the breaking of glass and few choice words about keeping him cold hands to himself--had stayed behind for a few days. Mick had assumed it was to give him some space--he’d never dreamed the old man had actually been looking for a new place to live.
The Hell-Raiser : Men Out of Uniform Book 5 Page 16