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.”

“Thanks.”

Mom left the kitchen, marching down the long hallway to her bedroom, where she closed the door behind her, the latch clunking.

Now or never.

Micki took three steps backward and leaned on the counter, next to Gage, propping both hands on the edge.

My territory.

Phil’s oily gaze slid to Gage. Clearly he wanted him gone.

She glanced at Captain America and his icy blue gaze. He's not going anywhere. Sure as she was clutching the counter, barely hanging on, he wouldn’t leave her.

“Gage is staying,” she said.

“Huh. You’ve always been”—Phil waved one hand and stared up at the ceiling, searching for the words,—“protective of your privacy.”

Well, not anymore.

“I’m not coming back to Vegas. I miss my family. I want to be here.”

“That won’t work.”

“Sure it will.”

Her boss went silent. He didn’t need to speak. The look in his eyes, that hateful, harsh stare she’d seen leveled on others, bore into her.

Don’t give in.

“All right,” he said, “here’s what we’ll do. It’s the weekend. I’ll give you the rest of the day alone. Let you think long and hard about what you’re doing. Perhaps being with your family has clouded your judgment. Understandable.”

“I don’t need any more time. I’m quitting.”

Gage gave up leaning against the counter and stood tall. “Sounds to me like she’s decided. I’ll show you out.”

She’d worked for this man for ten years. Knowing his personality and how he'd react to her attempts to back him off, she also knew that he wouldn’t give up so easily. And he certainly wouldn’t be ushered out. Not in this lifetime.

Without moving from his seat, he locked his gaze on Micki. “I trust you received my e-mail?”

The one with the video of Jonah. Oh, she’d received it. “I did. I trust you received mine?”

He made a sickening tsk, tsk, tsk noise, shaking his head the whole while. “I thought better of you, Micki.”

God, she needed him out. She turned to Gage. The hero.

If he had questions, he didn’t show it. His demeanor, the determined, stiff-spined stance hadn’t changed since Mom had walked out. Phil wanted to rattle him and for once, he didn’t get what he wanted.

Micki’s heart soared, shoring her up for a battle she would never win.

But Gage had stuck with her, offering his silent support. She so didn’t deserve him. In any capacity.

“I’m done, Phil. Whatever you’ve got, bring it on. I’m not eighteen anymore and neither is Jonah.”

Just as Gage was about to bust Phil Flynn’s ass from the house, the back door blasted open.

“You’re batshit crazy,” Reid said to a following Jonah, the two of them too caught up in the argument of the day to notice their visitor.

Reid’s instincts must have kicked in because he halted. Stopped cold right there, his eyes shooting to Gage, then to Micki. He got to the man sitting at the table, and the tension level in the room shot into the red.

No introductions necessary here.

“What the hell’s this?” Reid wanted to know.

“Ah,” Phil said, pointing at Jonah. “The rapist is here.”

What the—?

All at once the room exploded and Jonah reached for Phil, grabbing his fancy shirt and hauling him to his feet. “Watch your mouth, asshole.”

Gage stepped in, inserting himself between Jonah and his target. “Take it easy.” He shoved Jonah back, forcing him to let go of Flynn's shirt. “Don’t give this prick a reason to slap you with an assault charge. That’s what he wants.”

But Jonah was gone, his mind still focused on the insult. Gage gripped his T-shirt and held on. “Don't give in.”

Jonah snapped to attention. Assuming he'd reined in his temper, Gage let go.

“Get out,” Micki said, her voice like jagged glass. “Right now.”

The man’s way of life, his street smarts alone, would dictate he should follow Micki’s advice and leave. No matter how good a fighter, he was still faced with three men, all bigger and younger by twenty years and two of them former Green Berets.

If he wanted to, Gage could have the asshole down in less than two seconds.

And Flynn knew it.

“I’ll go,” he said. “But I’m flying home tomorrow and expecting you to be with me.”

Doing his best to control his need to kick the crap out of Phil Flynn, Gage walked him to the door. As long as he went peacefully, Gage didn’t see any need to amp this situation up. Besides, Miss Joan wouldn’t appreciate spilled blood on her shiny floors.

For now, Gage would control himself.

But God knew, he had enough pent-up aggravation from the past six months to tear Phil Flynn’s arms and legs off and shove ’em straight up his ass.

The minute he booted Flynn out the front door, Reid’s voice boomed.

“What the fuck?”

“Reid Sullivan Steele! Language!”

And, oh crap. Miss Joan rejoined the party.

Gage picked up his pace, hustling back to the kitchen where Micki now sat at the table, her head cradled in her hands, fingers digging into her scalp. Reid stood over her while Jonah pressed his palms into the counter, rotten energy shooting off him and tripling the already caustic tension.

Miss Joan propped her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Micki said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t you lie to me. I won’t abide liars in this house.” Miss Joan turned to Jonah. “And why on earth is he calling you a rapist?”

What the fuck, was right.

Reid glanced at Gage. Shouldn’t be here. Should he go? Stay? Jesus, this family. He’d sat through many arguments, but none that involved the word rapist.

Being a close friend didn’t give him the right to be a voyeur on this level of family intimacy.

He waggled his thumb at the door. “I’ll…”

Micki’s head shot up and she locked her eyes on him. “No. Please. Don’t.”

Her panic—or fear?—rooted him to his spot. She needed something, but damned if he knew what.

Maybe his presence leveled things off, kept emotions from getting too crazy in front of the outsider.

Knowing these people, he doubted it. They tended to blow when they needed to blow, company be damned.

Stepping farther into the room, Gage focused on Micki. “Tell me what you need.”

“Just, please, stay. I need…help.”

Jonah pushed off the counter, walked to the table, and smacked his hands on it. “Help with what? What the hell was he talking about?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes shimmery with tears.

Miss Joan marched over and wrapped her arms around Micki, holding on with a grip only mothers could pull off without hurting someone.

“Oh, my girl. You’re home now. Everything will be fine.”

“No, Mom. It won’t.”

This is it.

Micki had waited for this moment for years. Dreamed of it, in fact. Sitting in front of her family and opening up, relieving herself of her filthy little secrets.

The lying had to stop. Even her grand plan to chase Phil off had failed. Now she'd have to live with disappointing her family. Live with them knowing how she made her way all these years. And how, in the end, by using his own tactics against him, she'd turned out no better than Phil.

She couldn’t do it anymore.

She wanted a life lived on her terms.

And Jonah deserved to know the truth.

Everyone did.

She just hadn’t expected to tell them this way. She’d wanted to get Jonah alone. That very morning, but…Too late now.

Maybe, if she admitted everything, they might understand. They might not think of her as someone who’d willingly gone to work for a scumbag.

Still in her mother’s arms, she sat back, stared straight ahead at Reid, his big body still hovering, crowding her, and her chest got tight. The walls, combined with Reid’s looming, squeezed in. Her breath caught and the slow burn of panic curled inside.

Run.

That’s what she needed to do. Just get out. Break free of all of it. Even Mom's attempt at comfort made her feel trapped.

She pulled free of her mother and shifted sideways, bumping Jonah’s arm and—stuck.

Shoving her chair back, she gripped the edge of the table, her gaze snapping from Jonah to Reid to Mom, and that panic blew apart.

Run.

Rock-solid, steady Gage, all perfect wide shoulders and lean muscle, appeared in the space beside Reid, bringing a sense of calm. A sense of safety.

He’d help her. As confused as he had to be, about her, about Phil, about everything, he hadn’t turned that damning file over to Reid.

She closed her eyes, forced out a slow breath. I can do this.

“Mikayla,” Reid barked, “start talking.”

She flinched at his tone, opened her eyes and spotted Gage holding his palms up.

“How about we all sit down. You standing over her isn’t helping.”

Yes. Sitting. Sitting was better. The man was exactly what she needed now. In control, levelheaded, and commanding. Simply perfect.

No. Not perfect. No one was. But he might be as close as one could get.

All at once, her brothers and mother found a seat. Jonah slid into the chair to her left, Reid and Gage across from her and Mom to her right.

She could do this. Just start at the beginning and lay it all out. She glanced at Jonah, thought back ten years to that one night that had changed everything.

“Jonah, I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to happen this way.”

“Tell me what the hell is going on.”

“It was that stupid party. Senior year. The one at Harrison Shaw’s house?”

Her brother’s gaze shot to their mother. Yeah, this wasn’t ideal.

“What party?” Mom asked.

“I was invited, but didn’t want to go to alone. I took Jonah with me.”

For moral support. Together, they'd been two nerds treated like outcasts until she’d gotten fed up with Jake Trambly’s bullying. Oh, she’d taught him, hadn’t she? The star football player found himself with a .075 grade point average. All thanks to her nimble fingers and her ability to hack into the school’s admin system.

For the first time, she’d been a hero. Her classmates had loved the prank. And the administrators had no proof it’d been her. Which left her free of punishment.

Three weeks from graduation, she’d become a hero with her classmates and scored an invite to a party at the house of a friend of one of the “cool” kids. A mansion in Asheville no less. That house, with its pool and huge rooms and multiple bathrooms that awed her, should have been paradise.

Should have been.

The pool. She remembered standing next to it and tilting her head back as the warm breeze tickled her cheeks. Large trees provided a canopy of green against the backdrop of a starlit sky. Dance music spilled from hidden speakers as partygoers crowded around her, all of them loud and giggly and well on their way to being trashed. She had half a beer, decided she hated the taste, and tossed it. Besides, she wanted to experience that one amazing night of being one of the cool kids to its fullest and not have her senses dulled by alcohol.

Jonah tugged on the back of her shirt. “Micki,” he said, “I need help.”

She opened her eyes, found her twin standing behind her, his hazel eyes wide and wild.

He leaned in, got close to her ear. “Let’s go.”

“What the hell?”

“Now, Micki. Right now. I need your help. Someone is in trouble. Inside. She’s in one of the bedrooms.”

She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Is she okay?”

“No. Someone drugged her. The guys—” Jonah sucked in a breath, slapped his hands on top of his head, and two passing girls laughed at him.

Holy cow. Something had her brother in freak-out mode.

“Someone,” he said, “must have roofied her. She’s wasted and they’re…”

Oh, no. “What? They’re doing what?”

“Harrison just took me up there. Told me to…have a turn. He said he’d be back in ten with the next guy. We’ve got to get her out.”

Rape. These asshole rich kids were raping a girl. Micki curled her hands into fists, bumping them against her thighs. “Where is she?”

“Still in there. I’ve got five more minutes. I can’t just walk her out, though. I need help.”

“I’ll do it. What’s your plan?”

Now, ten years later, it came back to her like it was an hour ago. Micki bringing Jonah’s beat-up truck around the side of the house. Jonah smuggling a barely standing girl out the window. Thank God that room had been on the first floor because it had taken both of them to drag her to the truck. For his efforts, Jonah had earned himself a scratch on the face.

But they’d gotten her out.

For ten years, Micki had kept it to herself, sharing that secret with only Jonah. And now, hearing Micki recite the events of that night, Mom lifted her hand to her mouth and gasped.

“Oh, my God,” Mom said, her voice muffled under the weight of her hand. “How did y'all never tell me this?”

Jonah cleared his throat, the misery on his face evident in the harsh, downward curve of his mouth. “We took her home. We were scared, so we left her on the porch. I told Micki to drive the truck to the corner. Then I rang the bell and ran. We made sure her folks got her inside and we left.”

“Holy hell,” Reid said. “Y'all never told anyone?”

“No. We figured if her folks went to the cops, they’d find us.”

“No one ever came,” Mom said.

“Someone came,” Micki said.

All heads snapped toward her. This is it.

“Who?” Jonah asked.

“Phil.”

Jonah cocked his head. “Phil?”

“After school one day. I was in town. At the café grabbing a shake for the walk home. He came up to me.”

“That son of a bitch,” Mom said.

“Mama!” Reid said, clearly shocked at her outburst.

For once, she was getting the scolding. Any other time, Micki would have laughed. Now? It all seemed…sad. Heartbreaking even.

“He’d been hired by Harrison Shaw’s dad.” She looked at her mother. “The party was at their house. A girl had gotten raped, and being the bigshot CEO of North Carolina’s biggest bank, he needed to make the mess go away. He knew about us, Jonah. About us taking Tessa home. Harrison must have figured out it was us and told his father. I guess Mr. Shaw wanted to make sure we didn’t go to the cops, so he hired Phil. I didn’t know it at the time, but Phil had already gone to Tessa’s parents and made a deal with them. I don’t know what he threatened them with, but it had to be something.”

Gage leaned in on his elbows. “Big enough that they didn’t seek justice for their daughter’s rape.”

Jonah pushed his shoulders back, readying himself for the rest of it. “What did he want with you?”

“Harrison told his father about me…” She glanced at her mother and another bout of shame spewed, forcing her to look away and focus on the tabletop. “He told his father I changed Jake’s GPA. His father told Phil and Phil offered me a job.”

That stupid prank. If only she hadn’t done it.

Too late for that.

“He wanted you to hack for him,” Jonah said.

“Yes. He needed someone with my skills and I was convenient. I was young, impressionable, and wouldn't ask questions. And he threatened me.”

“With what?”

“With you being convicted of rape.”