Twenty minutes later, Evie strolled to the front door carrying a La Belle Style bag from Brynne’s shop.

Of course, because Gage’s luck was shit on toast lately, Evie had already been down at the B, having dinner with—you guessed it—Reid and Brynne. Rather than race home, she’d had Brynne take her down to the shop and bought Micki a pair of jeans.

And underwear.

Jesus. What a clusterfuck.

All under the guise that Micki had “fallen” off Jonah’s bike and tore her pants.

And underwear.

Clusterfuck.

Who the hell would believe that?

Not Reid. That was for sure. But they’d deal with that later.

Gage opened the door and Evie grinned up at him, all classic Steele smart-ass, and his face got hot.

This family. When was the last time someone had actually made him blush?

“Don’t say it,” he said.

Cruising by him, she offered up a little finger wave. “My lips are zipped. But, holy jumpin’ Jesus! If Reid finds out about this he’ll go crazy!”

“Will you tell him?”

“Not me.”

“Brynne?”

“Pfft. She knows my brother is on the brink of insane. This would kick him right over the edge.”

“Any day now!” Micki called from the bathroom.

La Belle Style bag in hand, Evie strode down the short hallway and banged on the door. “I’ve got the goods.”

Gage squeezed his eyes shut and let out a grunt. What a crew. The whole lot of them.

Micki cracked open the bathroom door and stuck her hand out. “Evie, you’re awesome. Thank you.”

The bathroom door closed again. “You’re welcome.” She held a fist in the air. “Sisters unite! I made sure to get underwear that was still in the stockroom. In the packaging. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, man,” Gage muttered. “I don’t need to hear this.”

Really, thinking about Micki sliding into underwear someone had tried on—because of his inability to control himself—gave him a good dose of guilt.

“You good?” Evie asked. “I have to get back to the B before Reid starts asking too many questions. If I’m there, it’ll take the heat off Brynne.”

Micki emerged from the bathroom encased in a pair of skin-tight jeans that made her legs look twelve miles long, and Gage started to rethink dinner out.

“Ooh,” Evie said, “perfect fit. I knew it.”

“I owe you one.”

“Nah. It was fun. And now I have a secret about you two. Total blackmail material.”

Blackmail. Micki’s face fell. Everything literally drooping.

That one word—blackmail—had changed her. The whole of her adult life spent under its threat.

Sensing trouble, Evie locked her fingers around Micki’s arms. “You know I’m kidding, right? I didn’t mean it. I swear, I’d never…” Still hanging on to Micki, she swung back to Gage. “Guys, seriously, I was kidding.”

Fix this. Someone had to because Micki was knocked mute and poor Evie's skin had turned five shades whiter. Gage approached them, his eyes on Micki, silently reassuring her that no, her baby sister wasn’t threatening her.

He dropped one hand on each of their shoulders. “It’s fine. We’re in this together, right?”

“Right,” Evie said.

Micki held his gaze and nodded.

“We’ll take care of each other, right?”

“Right,” Evie repeated.

Something in that statement, the ferocity behind it, prompted Micki from her fog. She finally looked at her sister, wrenched one arm free and threw it around Evie. “I love you,” she said. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

Well, damn, if that didn’t beat all. Tough Micki Steele letting her guard down twice in one night.

“Ladies,” Gage said, “I’d love to stand around and watch this big family moment, but I’m starved. What do you say I buy you both dinner? We’ll face Reid together.”

“I’m in!” Evie said.

Micki didn’t release her sister, but backed up enough to face Gage, holding his stare for a long minute. “Me too,” she said. “I’m in.”

First thing Monday morning, Micki made the call.

The one to Phil. Originally, her plan had been to tell him over the phone that she wouldn’t be on that plane with him today, but when she heard his voice, the nonthreatening Phil voice, a bit of her resolve disintegrated. After all, she’d spent the past ten Christmases with the Flynn family. He hadn’t needed to do that. He could have left her and Tomas to themselves, sitting alone in their apartments. Instead, he’d welcomed them into his home.

For that, she’d always be grateful. The dichotomy of Phil. Good Phil versus evil Phil.

Good Phil kept her comfortable, mostly, and bad Phil? Well, he kept her pinned down. Cornered. Fearful of life outside the bubble he’d created for her.

All of it played in her mind, confusing her, twisting her thoughts. After everything, how could she care about this man?

Easy. He’d been her family when she needed one. The deciding factor when he requested she meet with him. To talk.

And she caved.

She spent the bike ride into town rationalizing it. Closure. That’s what she needed when it came to Phil. To be done once and for all.

Phil had wanted to meet alone. Of course he did. Alone, he could do his black magic and emotionally work her over. Refusing to let that happen, she’d insisted on meeting at the Triple B. At 9:00 a.m., when the morning crowd would still be strong and reinforcements could be found.

She paused at the door, gripped the handle, and held on, allowing the cold metal to center her. Ten minutes. That’s all she’d give him. She’d tell him she wasn’t going back and that would be that. Simple.

“Good morning.”

Dammit.

Life with Phil. Always uncharted. She glanced back, found him behind her in one of his five-thousand-dollar suits. An intimidation tactic. He’d admitted as much to her years ago. People found it hard to say no to a man who was smart enough to afford Brioni suits.

“Good morning.” She opened the door.

“You really want to do this inside?”

I sure do.

“Yes. It won’t take long.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, Mikayla.”

Well, it’s about to get worse.

Micki stepped into the B where the thick morning crowd huddled at the end of the counter and an aroma of baking blueberry scones and cinnamon mingled with fresh brewed coffee. She’d never been a fan of coffee, but right now, standing in this spot, where life as a normal person lay just within her reach, she might have to try one of Randi’s lattes.

“Hey, Micki,” Randi called from behind the espresso machine.

“Hi, Randi.”

“Get you something?”

“Not yet. Thanks. Do you mind if we sit for a few minutes?”

Randi eyed Phil in a way that made Micki think Britt must have filled her in. Perfect. Another who now knew her secrets.

She couldn’t worry about what Randi thought of her. Not now, anyway. This meeting required her full attention.

Ten minutes and I’m free.

Free of Phil and Vegas. Free to start a new life. And if a hunky former Green Beret were involved, even better.

“Hello, Mikayla.”

Mr. Greene, King of the Gossips, tossed a wave her way and, cane in hand, shuffled into the adjoining bar, where the overflow from the coffee shop spread.

Assuming the bar area would be less noisy and not as crowded, she led the way, commandeering the table in the back corner. The one she’d sat at with her family on Friday night. That alone would bolster her confidence. Silly? Maybe. But at this point, inspiration came in different forms.

“I’m having breakfast,” Phil said.

The man never ate breakfast. Never. Today? Breakfast. Again, she should have prepared for it. The master manipulator wanted to rattle her, throw her off her game. He knew she wanted to get this over with, so he’d draw it out by holding his finger on the button that brought Micki to heel.

“I can’t stay long,” she said.

“We’ll see.”

Phil went back to the coffee shop for his food while Mr. Greene and Mrs. Royce—who had to be 120 by now— argued over a new ordinance Grif wanted the town council to vote on. As in most small towns, change didn’t come easily. From what Micki overheard, the locals enjoyed the new wave of tourism and the economic boost, but they didn’t so much love the rules that came with it.

Progress. Always a bitch.

Phil returned, setting a muffin and a steaming mug of coffee on the table. Taking his time, he slid his jacket off and gingerly hung it on the back of the vacant chair beside him, adjusting the shoulders as he did so. One thing about Phil, he took great pride in his appearance. The minute his butt hit his seat, Micki leaned forward. Now or never.

“I didn’t want to do this over the phone,” she said.

“I’m glad for that. Surely, after all I’ve done for you, I deserve more than a phone call.”

This man had hijacked her life. Robbed her of her family and the love that came with it, and he had the nerve, the absolute balls, to sit here and lecture her?

Of course he did. A week ago, before she’d spent time with her family and Gage and experienced what true affection was, she’d have fallen for Phil’s machinations.

No more.

She worked up a vision of Gage, so good and honest, imagined him standing behind her, shoring her up.

“If we’re being fair,” she said, “I’ve done everything you asked. You also made a lot of money because of me. I’d say we’re about even.”

“Is that what this is about? You want a raise?”

A raise. If only.

“No raise. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. I miss my family.”

“I’m sure.” He glanced around and his lips dipped into a disgusted frown. “Why don’t we reach a compromise? You come here, to this little Podunk town every few months. I’ll give you a week off each time. Come back for holidays. My girls would miss you, but if it’ll make you happy, they’ll adjust.”

Now he brought his daughters into it? How had she never seen it before? The evil.

“No,” she said. “It’s over, Phil. Obviously, if you leave me alone, our work together will remain confidential.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Pardon?”

Gently, he set his coffee and plate aside and leaned toward her, his face just inches away, all that cool confidence morphing into focused rage. His dark eyes stabbed at her, and her pulse hammered so hard it stole her breath.

Calm. Stay calm. Whatever threats he’d make, her family had assured her they’d help. She steadied herself, lifted her chin, and met Phil’s gaze.

“You stupid bitch,” he said. “Do you really think I’d let you go? No one leaves me. Especially not you. I’ll bury you, your family, and that Green Beret you’re fucking.”

Her head snapped back and he made a pfffting noise. “I knew something lured you back here. Hell, if I’d known it was a cock, I’d have gotten you one of those long ago.”

The foul words hit her and her tight spine nearly snapped.

This is what Phil did. Finger on the button.

“You crazy old bat!” Mr. Greene yelled at Mrs. Royce. “You don’t know what the hell you’re saying.”

Phil scoffed, as if the locals only proved the point about this Podunk town. My town. Podunk or not, he was on her turf and she didn’t have to listen to him. Not anymore.

She set her hands on the table and pushed out of her seat. “Thank you for whatever kindness you’ve shown me, but it’s over, Phil. I’m not coming back to Vegas.”

He snagged her wrist, gave it a hard squeeze while a greasy smile lifted his lips. “You want your brother in jail?”

“Get your hand off her.”

Micki whipped her head sideways, found Gage standing two feet from them, his feet planted, hands loose at his sides and his face molded into hard cement. Gone was Mr. All-American, her apple-cheeked lover.

“Great,” Phil said. “A hero.”

That wouldn’t sit well. Exactly what Phil wanted.

“Yeah. A hero,” Gage said. “I’ll tell you one more time. Get your hands off of her or your suit will get bloody.”

The ten or so patrons in the room all swung their way, curious gazes locked on. Mr. Greene used his cane to lever up from his chair, then smacked it on the table leg. Reinforcements by way of the geriatric ward.

Phil let out a small huff. “Hicks. I’ve always hated dealing with you people.”

Micki slid her gaze to his hand still on her. No more. She locked eyes with him. “Threatening to put my brother in jail won’t work anymore. I told him everything. The video, the DNA, all of it. He’s ready for war. And, with all that I've seen, so am I.”

Gage took a step closer and Phil, apparently realizing the hicks would come to her aid, let go.

Down deep, a small part of her broke off. Backward as it was, she’d cared about him. Cared about Tommy—Tomas. Now?

Over.

She moved away, heading for the door with Gage.

“Mikayla,” he called, “you've known me a long time.”

Before he said anything that would get the gossips going, she turned back to him and he stood, getting right into her personal space.

He leaned in, keeping his eyes on hers. “Do you really think you can blackmail me?”

Gage led Micki out of the Triple B into the bright morning sunshine and checked over his shoulder. No one following. Phil Flynn being the master strategist that he was, Gage assumed the fixer’s henchman lurked somewhere, but Tomas hadn’t appeared yet.

Having no idea how Micki had even gotten into town, he hooked a left out of the B, the two of them hustling down Main Street. Micki kept quiet beside him. That alone pissed him off.

What in hell was she doing meeting with this guy? At least she’d had the good sense to do it in public, but—Christ—this guy was an animal. An animal with some sort of twisted hold on her.

“You're crazy for meeting him.”

She halted in the middle of the sidewalk, her eyes narrowing so hard it looked painful. Disregarding the stroller moms power-walking toward them, she shrugged free of his grip and smacked his hand away.

“Watch it. You don’t get to talk to me like that. I’m done with controlling men.”

Oh, nice. Now he was controlling. Wasn’t this always the way. Everyone wanted his help, and then when he helped, they got pissy. Classic. Double-edged sword that one. And a woman like Micki, with issues that needed tending, dragons to be slayed, and all that bullcrap, for him? Catnip. High-quality.

The moms cruised by, both of them staring him down, obviously ready to come to her aid. One of the women curled her lip and Micki held her hand up. “I’m fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

Pissed as she might be, she’d covered his ass on that one because the women kept moving.

“I’m not controlling you. Hell, it’s probably the other way around because I was going about my normal business when your brother called and told me to haul my ass to the B.”

“Which brother?”

“Britt. Randi called him. He’s working a job on the mountain. He took a chance that I was still in town. Which, luckily, I was.”

Micki sighed. “I’d have been fine. Just because I’m back doesn’t mean you boys get to order me around. I know Phil as well as he knows me. Something he’s not used to. He’s used to dealing with strangers and it’s throwing him. I just have to figure out how to get rid of him.”

“Easy. You threaten him. Turn his shit back on him. And then hold on to your ass. You do that with the help of the people who care about you.”

She flapped her arms. “Oh, here we go. But guess what, Captain America? I did that. And it backfired royally. I've been trying to hack into Phil's system for three days to compile as much evidence as I can. I thought I could use his own tactics against him. As you can see, he's not afraid of me. Whatever I have, whatever I dig up, he will always respond and he can still put my brother in jail. Period.”

The rattle of an engine sounded and Mrs. Cunningham pulled into a parking space. Her son was career military, a Marine, God save him, and each time she ran into Gage, she shared all the latest news from overseas. Knowing the stress of having a loved one in a war-torn country, Gage always took the time to talk with her. Sometimes for an hour. Least he could do. No matter how much it screwed up his schedule. Today? He didn’t have it in him.

She worked her way out of her car and wandered to the curb. “Hello, you two. Don’t you look fierce on such a fine morning.”

“Ma’am,” Gage said.

“Hi, Mrs. Cunningham.”

“Hello, Mikayla. Nice to see you. Gage, I have an update from Mark.”

Damn. He couldn’t do this now. As much as he wanted to be respectful, chitchat wouldn’t work. Not with his mind overloading. Still, he looked her straight in the eye. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yes. He’s just fine.”

Phew. Now that he’d determined all was well, he’d have to put her off. For the first time. “Ma’am, I’d like to hear about it and I hate to be rude, but we’re in the middle of something. Can I find you later today when I have extra time?”

“He’s over in Pakistan—wait.” She paused, snapped her head back, and blinked.

The woman had gotten so used to him always being available, no matter what time of day, she almost looked…offended. Something that simultaneously irritated and amused him. At that moment, Mrs. Cunningham represented everything he needed to change. The constant need for him to disregard his own agenda so he could please someone else. Right now, he was pissed enough about this Micki situation that he couldn’t, wouldn’t make someone else happy. For once, he came first.

Mrs. Cunningham took pity on him and patted his arm. “Certainly. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“That’s no problem, ma’am. You couldn’t have known.”

The woman walked off, leaving him with Micki.

“Did you have to be nasty to her?”

What? “You are just spoiling for a fight today. Why? So you can run again?”

“Shut up.”

“No. If you want to run, do it, but you're not blaming me for it. No way, sweetheart. And I wasn’t nasty. We’re busy here.”

“Actually, we’re not. I’m sorry Britt bothered you. I thought I should handle it alone.”

Gage made a buzzing noise. “Sorry, babe. Not happening.”

“What?”

“You can’t take this guy on yourself.” He held up his hands. “Before you get pissy and wax on about how you’ve been on your own and taking care of yourself, no one should deal with this maniac solo. His reach is too long. We need to pool resources.”

When his statement was met with blessed silence, he took that as agreement. Might as well call it a win because he wasn't exactly getting many of those this morning.

“How’d you get into town? Tell me you stole Jonah’s bike again.”

“I’m getting my exercise.”

“Where is it?”

“I locked it behind Brynne’s shop. Why?”

“Because we’re throwing it in my truck and I’m taking you home. Where we’ll tackle Reid and Jonah and figure out how to turn the tables on Phil Flynn.”

Gage, Micki, and Reid marched into Jonah’s command center and found the billionaire with his nose in his computer screen. What else was new?

Jonah had knocked out the dividing wall between what had been two bedrooms and created a combination office/bedroom suite. Which explained the dust collecting in his designated spot in the training center. The Baby Billionaire, as he was affectionately known, preferred staying in his own space, fiddling with his computers and gaming software.

Gage also suspected Jonah didn’t want him assuming the boss was watching. Something he appreciated, considering the healing time he’d needed.

Jonah dragged his attention from the giant monitor in front of him, looked at Micki first, then Reid, then Gage.

“I can only imagine,” he said.

“Listen up.” Reid jerked a thumb in Micki’s direction. “She just dropkicked Phil Flynn.”

Jonah swiveled his chair to fully face them. “What now?”

“I told him I wasn’t going back.”

“And how did that go over?”

Micki swerved her lips one way, then the other. “Could have been worse. Captain America here showed up and got into a pissing match with him.”

Good one. Gage held up a finger. “At the request of Britt, who called me because Randi had called him to say Micki was in the B with Flynn.”

“Enter Captain America,” Reid gave him a winning smile. “I like that name.”

“Fuck off.”

Micki flopped onto the love seat on the other side of Jonah’s desk. “Now, now, children.”

Gage shook his head. These people. Sometimes it was damned hard to keep them all focused. “If we’re all done screwing around, maybe we can get on with it? I have work to do. I mean, it’s not like we don’t have a training center opening soon.”

“Right,” Jonah said. “Is Flynn leaving?”

Micki stayed quiet, so Gage took that one. “Not without your sister.”

“He’ll go,” Micki said. “Eventually. His business is in Vegas and the thing Phil loves most is money.”

Jonah sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I want him gone. Him being here isn’t good for any of us. We have enough distractions.”

“Okay, Baby Billionaire, what do you suggest?”

“Well, lunkhead, I have calls in to a couple of criminal attorneys from Asheville. If this asshole thinks he’ll blackmail us with my own fucking DNA and that video, I want to know my options. I’ve got money to burn, so Phil Flynn can shove that up his ass.”