Micki sat on her bed, laptop in front of her, while a light breeze slipped through the partially open French doors. When she’d woken up, she’d cracked the door, then hustled back to bed, snuggling under the covers for an extra few minutes while she fantasized about Gage slipping into bed with her.

Before long, the chilly air—and lack of hunky man—drove her from bed and into the shower. A hot shower because, as sexually frustrated as she was, a cold one wouldn’t do.

Now, an hour later, she busied herself searching for a remote back door into Phil's office network. The one he constantly moved important files from and hid. If she found the back door, she'd get in and search for the files, adding them to the small stash of documents she kept as her insurance policy.

Her ajar bedroom door slowly came all the way open and she looked up, hoping to find Jonah. After her evening with Gage, she supposed it was time to clue her twin in on why she'd stayed with Phil for so long. She wouldn't give him the whole of it, but it involved him, and now that she'd made the decision to stay, he'd better get a lawyer. Only Jonah had gotten up early and headed out somewhere while she was in the shower.

Now she found Reid casually leaning against the doorframe.

Her brother’s taut cheeks and pressed-tight mouth indicated he wasn't a happy camper.

“Good morning,” she said. “You’re here early.”

Her brother seemed to spend more time in town with Brynne than in the bunkhouse he’d apparently claimed as his own. If he didn’t plan on occupying it, she might want to move in there herself.

How things had changed in two days. Friday she’d shown up here ready to run. Now she pondered a turf war over a bunkhouse.

“Gage Barber,” he said.

Alrighty then. Lovely greeting. Micki went back to her laptop, checking the scan currently running on Phil's server. “What about him?”

“I was just in town and talked to Bonnie Traughber.”

“I don’t know Bonnie Traughber.”

“Bonnie talked to Danielle Santori.”

Who the hell were these people? “I don’t know her either.”

“And Danielle talked to Cherlyn.”

Uh-oh. Micki kept her eyes glued to her laptop. Dang it, she might need to tweak that code.

“Cherlyn told Danielle she saw you and Suds last night.”

She saw us, all right. She waggled a hand at Reid. “She has a thing for Gage. I was helping him discourage her.”

“Un-huh. Cherlyn mentioned that to Danielle.”

Apparently Reid wasn't taking the hint that she was busy. “It’s not a big deal. He put his arm around me to try and dissuade her. That’s all.”

Except for the smooching part.

Reid made snoring noises. “Nice try. Danielle told Bonnie she saw the two of you getting busy by the tree.”

“Getting busy? Really?”

“Whatever.”

Micki sighed and went back to her laptop. “It was a moment. Don’t get your shorts in a twist.”

“My shorts aren’t in a twist. Gage is a good guy.”

Well, that hadn’t taken long. So much for giving her a chance. “And he’s too good for me. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Screw you. That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t say—or think—that. He’s my friend. He works for Jonah and me. Our new business that Jonah sunk a boatload of his billionaire cash into. If you’re picking up what I’m putting down.”

Now they were getting to the reason for this visit. Micki, in her brother’s opinion, brought drama. Of course, the fact that she was trying a hack right in front of him only attested to that.

“It won’t be an issue,” she said.

“I don’t want to be a dick about this.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Look, he’s been through a lot this last year. He got injured last spring. Shot by a villager in Mozambique. Damned near bled out.”

She tried to picture it. Handsome Gage Barber on a stretcher, blood pouring from his body. But God, she didn’t want to think about that. The injury, though, might explain the dizzy spells. “Was it a head injury?”

Reid eyed her. “No. Torso. But he hit his head when he fell. Got knocked out for twenty or thirty minutes. He’s done a ton of rehab and he’s back on his feet. I don’t want him distracted. And I sure as shit don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

“You don’t want? What about what he wants? Or what I want?”

“Whatever, Mikayla. You know what I mean.”

Yes. She did. As always, her brother in alpha mode, being the master protector.

“I have no intention of hurting Gage. This might shock you, but I actually like the guy. Now, with all due respect, leave me alone and don’t talk to me about this again. It’s not your business.”

He poked a finger at her. “Don’t fuck this up.”

Gage cut the turn into Tupelo Hill too damned sharp and the back end of his SUV fishtailed, almost slamming the post at the end of the driveway. He let up on the gas pedal, continuing at half-storming speed until he swung into the gravel lot in front of the training center.

He parked and grabbed the stupid fucking folder he didn’t want to stupid fucking look at. Goddammit, he did not want to be in the middle of Steele family drama.

He’d been so good. For months. Just minding his own flipping business. Now? Not even ten a.m. and he had a headache.

What he needed was an ibuprofen—maybe the whole bottle—and Reid, for once in his life, to be quiet. No talking now. To anyone.

He’d read the stupid fucking file, assess the damage, and strategize. Read, assess, plan. A function with no emotional involvement.

No sweat.

If anything he read needed to be passed to Reid, he’d do it and remove himself. Or maybe talk to Micki first. Did he owe her that after the time they’d spent together? Where his loyalty should lie here, he didn't have an effing clue.

Just hell.

He checked the building entrance. Locked. Good. That meant no Reid. He tended not to lock the door behind him, but Gage would double-check before he opened this file. No sense in risking Reid busting in on him when his sister's nasty secrets were spilled out on his desk.

“Reid?” His voice echoed through the empty lobby, bouncing off the walls and jabbing at his already pounding head.

All that echoing reminded him he needed to check on the furniture delivery for the reception area. He pulled his phone, typed in a quick note so he wouldn’t forget.

“You here?” he called again, louder this time.

No answer.

Good. Chances were, if Reid was on the property, his spidey sense would tingle and as soon as he saw Gage’s car, he’d wander in.

Gage needed to work quick.

He hustled into his office and tossed the folder on his desk. Without bothering to ditch his jacket, he shoved the three neat stacks requiring his attention to the side and fanned the folder’s contents out. Mostly e-mails. Some photos of people he didn’t know.

A thumb drive.

Those little bastards he hated. Thumb drives always contained potentially devastating information.

He sat back, ran his hands over the top of his head. Scrubbing enough to feel the irritation. He should forget about this file. Shove it all back into the folder and burn it. Whatever was in there was Micki’s past. Her business. Not his.

But there was a reason Tomas gave this to him. Maybe he knew enough about Steele loyalty to anticipate they’d tell him to shove it up his ass. They’d protect their sister. Even if they didn’t know what to think of her, down deep, they loved her. They were family.

Gage wasn’t.

Given that nonbiological connection, Gage had the capacity to see beyond the emotional warfare.

And that’s what Flynn was betting on.

Gage picked up the thumb drive, squeezed his fingers over it.

Don’t.

Curiosity, though, was a persistent bitch. Particularly for a guy who had built a military career on finding answers in the most minute details.

He swiveled his chair to the credenza and grabbed the cheap laptop he'd bought a few months back. Nothing personal had ever been entered on it and he’d never logged on to the Internet. Completely clean.

This laptop he used for documents he didn’t trust.

Thumb drives included. Chances were, Tomas, given that Micki had most likely blown up his phone, wanted a little revenge. Revenge that came by unleashing a virus on the Steeles’ network.

Plugging the potential minefield in, he fired up the laptop. Waited for it to blow.

Nothing. No burst screaming “surprise!” or exclamation point-laden warnings from his virus protection.

He typed in his password, waited for the spinning wheel to stop, and clicked on the thumb drive’s folder.

A video.

“Shit.”

He sat back, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the keyboard. Did he really want to see this?

No.

Absolutely not. It sure as hell wouldn't be good. And…what if it was a sex tape or something twisted? Of Micki.

With this schmuck Tomas.

Or anyone, for that matter. He sat for a few seconds, weighing the options. After that kiss last night, the time they'd spent together, he wanted to trust her and help her build a life with her family. If that's what she truly wanted.

Who the hell was he kidding? His intentions weren't pure in all this. As much as he wanted to help her, he also wanted in her pants. All night he'd been distracted with thoughts of her. Under him, on top of him.

On her knees.

Goddammit.

He clicked the folder.

A grainy image popped up. Micki rushing from an office, waving one hand. Gage sat back, closed his eyes for half a second. He should stop. Just not look. Sex tape or not, Tomas wouldn't have given him this video if it were irrelevant. Tomas totally played him. And Gage let him.

“We’ll get this woman.” Micki’s voice streamed from the computer. “I’m done messing around.”

Gage opened his eyes.

On the video, Tomas rose from his desk, walked toward her. “Whatcha got?”

She dropped into a desk chair and banged away at a keyboard. “Yesterday I saw a bunch of charges from a pharmacy. Something is up with her. I got into the pharmacy records last night, but stopped. Now we’re going for it.”

“Don’t get caught.”

“I won’t. I swiped one of the employees' passwords. Once I get in, I’ll be able to see every prescription she fills.”

“You are good,” Tomas said.

The video went silent for a few seconds while Gage watched, transfixed, as a determined Micki hacked into a pharmacy’s system. Jesus. Hacking, in Gage’s world, was nothing new. In his mind, military operations were exempt from judgment. Watching Micki do it? Some reality he didn't need to see.

“I’m in,” she said. “And look at that.”

“What?”

“Oxy.” Micki sat back, high-fived Tomas. “We’ve got her. She’s going down.”

The video ended and Gage sat forward. Not a sex tape at least, but it didn't play to Micki's virtue either.

He pressed his palms against his eye sockets and forced his thoughts to order. One thing at a time here.

Logic and control.

Gage shoved the laptop aside and moved on to the documents still spread on his desk. E-mails to Phil Flynn. From Micki.

He skimmed them. Something about a custody battle. A local politician and his wife divorcing. Drug dependency. Unfit mother.

And—wait—a court transcript.

Criminal court.

He read the name of the defendant, checked the e-mails. The wife. Guilty of drug possession and child endangerment. Two-year sentence.

Yesterday, Micki had sworn, damned aggressively, she didn’t get involved in the “ugly” stuff.

Sure as hell looked ugly.

The chime of the security alarm shattered the silence.

“Hello? Gage?”

Micki.

Quickly, he gathered up the pages, ready to shove them back into the folder. Wait. Now that he’d seen this and after last night—the kiss they’d shared, her suspicions about the TBI and his reluctance to deny it—he wanted answers. For no other reason than to know if he could trust her.

The woman he'd shared his deepest secret with.

A sharp blast of pain stabbed at the back of his eyes, and his stomach flipped. All this time, he'd been so careful, not confiding in anyone. Anyone. And now…

He set the pages back on the desk. “My office,” he yelled back.

A minute later she appeared in the doorway wearing the same zippered jacket that wasn't nearly warm enough, a pair of stretchy leggings, and a fitted black shirt that hugged her lean torso. Her hair was poker straight today and a silver skull ring flashed under the glare of the overhead light.

In her arms she held a laptop. The software. He’d told her to come by and show him the program she’d designed.

Jesus, Gage. You screwed the pooch on this one.

“Hi,” she said.

He locked his jaw and sat back, his movements tight. Stilted. The guys had always loved playing cards with him. His inability to present a poker face made him a sucker.

It seemed, by the way she cocked her head, Micki had figured that out. “You look mad—or something.”

Stay calm. Logic and control. He wouldn’t accuse. Not yet. “Or something.”

Her gaze shot to the papers strewn across the desk. It took five seconds, at least, for her to face him again with that same hard-edged defiance he’d witnessed at their family meeting.

Micki Steele, whatever her secrets, was made of solid brick.

“What is it?”

“I had a visitor this morning.” He gestured to his laptop. “Your friend Tomas. He isn’t playing anymore.”

From the middle of Gage's office, Micki contemplated the door. She could turn and walk out. Just leave whatever this was behind.

Whatever he’d been reading had irritated him. She saw it in the harsh angles of his perfect, honorable face and the glare in his eyes. All the heat—the longing—from that moment before he kissed her last night was now gone, replaced by a cold intensity that sent a shiver crawling along her arms.

Two hours ago she’d been fantasizing about this man. About making love to him on lazy Sunday mornings or dinner-and-a-movie dates. All those things normal couples with normal lives do. How, after the life she’d led, did she think normal could exist?

The door beckoned and she forced herself to be still. To not look back.

To not run.

Gage whirled the laptop toward her and poked the keyboard. “Take a look. It’s a video.”

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!”