Micki appreciated Jonah’s tough talk, but he didn't understand Phil’s temperament. In his world, nothing was too extreme. Plus, this went beyond business. This was personal. If Phil couldn’t control his own people, how could he be expected to control others?

“Guys,” Micki said, “this isn’t about me or Jonah. This is about Phil's ability to control a situation.”

“Okay,” Gage said. “Then what do you suggest? You know him. What’ll back him off?”

“Me going back to Vegas.”

Gage sliced a hand across his throat. “Not an option.”

Both Jonah and Reid swung their heads in his direction, staring at him with their own brand of curiosity and wonder. By now, after the pants issue last night and Gage and Micki showing up at the B nearly at the same time, Reid clearly suspected something. And he’d already warned her it wouldn’t work between them.

None of his business.

Jonah waved a hand. “He’s right. If here is where you want to be, then that’s it. I’ll call the lawyers again. We’ll go into Asheville and talk to them. See what’s what.”

“In the meantime,” Gage said, “I’d like to keep a better eye on Flynn. I want to know where he is at all times.”

Reid nodded. “He's staying at Mrs. Tasky's B and B. I’ll poke around, see what he’s driving.”

“We’ve got those GPS units TechPro sent us to beta test. If we slip one on Flynn’s rental, we can monitor his location.”

“Good idea. I’m on that.” Reid took two steps and the lights went out.

What the heck?

A crack of sunlight streamed from the bottom of the window blinds and mixed with the glow of Jonah’s laptop screen, but otherwise darkness devoured the room. Even Jonah’s giant computer monitors had gone black.

Closest to the door, Gage checked the hallway. “Lights are out there, too.”

“Hang on,” Reid said. “Mom sometimes blows a breaker. Let me check the fuse box.”

Reid left and Micki’s brain looped. Could it be a coincidence that she’d just defied Phil and suddenly the power went out? Considering part of her duties included hacking into phone service providers and utility companies?

Just a breaker. Unlikely.

Gage stood in the doorway, half his body shadowed in darkness, but still looking over at her.

“Guys,” she said, “Phil has a system.”

“Don’t we all,” Jonah cracked.

“Yes, but Phil’s includes crashing into people’s personal lives and disrupting things.”

“Like the power?”

“Yes. He’s had me hack into power companies before.” She shot out of her chair. “Jonah, give me that laptop. Do we still have Wi-Fi?”

Jonah swiveled to his laptop and checked the screen. “Uh, yeah. Why?”

“He’ll have everything shut down. Cable, Wi-Fi, electric. All of it. And call your bank. Before he cleans out your accounts.”

While Reid called the power company, Gage hauled ass to the training center only to find the building dark and the furnace silenced. Cursing Flynn, he stood in the middle of the reception area taking in the eerie, inherent silence that came with power outages. From the time he was a kid, blackouts and the weird tension that came with them gave him the creeps. Flynn—the son of a bitch—worked fast. Assuming this wasn’t some fluke coincidence and the power on the property, on a sunny day lacking a whisper of wind, had randomly crapped out on them.

His phone rang and he ripped it from his back pocket. Reid. He punched the screen hoping his buddy had good news.

“What’s up?”

“You got lights down there?”

“Nope. What’d the power company say?”

“They’re stumped.”

Translation: We have no fucking idea when this will be fixed. Excellent.

“And what? We’re supposed to sit around with our thumbs up our asses while they figure it out?”

The front door swished open and he turned to see Micki storming into the building, laptop in hand.

“Reid, I’ll call you back. Two minutes.” He disconnected just as Micki strode past him. “What's up?”

He followed as she hustled down the hall, her boots clunking against the tile. “Phil thinks this power failure will scare me. He knows that I know this is a warning shot. The precursor to something bigger.”

“Safe to assume, yes.”

“He’s expecting me to fall in line and come back to him. His threats have always kept me from defying him.” She jabbed her thumb in the air. “I’ve been under his thumb too long. Let’s change things up. Shall we?”

“How?”

“By turning the power back on.”

Once in his office, she set the laptop on his desk and hauled his guest chair closer. “I’m going to screw with him.”

Oh, this girl, so complicated.

He moved around the desk. “Well, all right then.”

Her fingers pounded the keyboard, moving like lightning. He’d seen Jonah do magic at the computer, but the way she typed, the myriad of code flying across her screen, was something different. Something instinctive and on a whole other level.

“Shit on a shingle,” he said. “You’re fast.”

“Years of practice. Unfortunately.”

Half in awe and determined not to distract her, he stood behind her, keeping his mouth shut while she did her thing.

The seconds ticked by, stretching to a minute while she made a variety of grunting noises, occasionally clucking her tongue in some sort of Micki hacking language.

Finally, she held up her hand to high-five him. “I’m in.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” She went back to the keyboard. “Hang on, handsome.”

The lights in his office flicked on. Three minutes. That’s how long it had taken her to hack into the power company’s server. His time in the Army had hardened him to a lot of things. The Internet—and what occurred on it—wasn't one of them. The whole damn thing terrified him.

He scanned the laptop screen. What he saw wasn't one of the three languages he spoke. Code, he’d never understand.

“Oh,” she said, “would you just look at that?”

“What is it?”

“Whoever Phil had do this is still in there.” She tapped the screen. “This code right here is him. Or her.”

The lights went off.

“You little bastard.” Micki pounded the keyboard, a small smirk lifting the corners of her lips. “Let me get rid of them.”

She went to work again, humming the entire time. Humming. Later, he’d have to think about how it felt to watch her break any number of laws. Something she didn’t seem to mind all that much.

But, hell, all she was doing at the moment was righting a wrong. Or was that him justifying it because he had a thing for this girl? Not to mention a business to protect.

This was how it must have felt to her over the years, to inch across that legal versus illegal wire, finding ways to make sense of her decisions as she went.

A minute later, the lights in the office flashed on, the clunk of the furnace sounded through the vent, and Gage forgot all about his ethics dilemma.

“Well, holy shit.”

“Ha!” Micki shook her fist at the screen. “Take that!”

Gage’s phone rang again—Reid. He tapped the speaker button. “You got power up there?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. Micki just kicked the crap out of someone inside the power company’s server.”

“Shit.”

Gage held the phone out. “Tell your brother it’s fine. “

“It’s fine. I’ve been doing this for ten years, they won’t catch me.”

One could hope.

“Jonah called the bank. So far, no activity on his accounts. They have their IT people on it.”

“Good,” Micki said, still pounding away on the keyboard. “If this idiot is any good, he’ll figure out how to get around me, so it could be a long night of the power going on and off.”

The lights went out again.

“Jesus,” Gage said. “This is nuts.”

Micki continued on, seemingly unfazed. “The good news is, Phil will realize this game is dangerous. If he or his hacker is caught, he has way more to lose than I do, so he’ll eventually give up.”

Eventually. But how the hell long would it take? And would Micki wind up in handcuffs before it was over?

“Keep at it,” Reid said. “Suds and I are gonna plant a GPS unit. You ready, boss?”

“You know I am.”

Phil gave up. It took an hour, but he'd realized she'd win that particular battle. With power fully restored and Jonah throwing his billionaire weight around, Micki followed him into the law office of Richards and Calibee.

The slick marble, polished wood, and white leather chairs made her twitchy. Somehow, her faded skinny jeans, black button-down, and battered boots didn’t fit the decor.

Too much light to her darkness. There seemed to be a run on that lately.

Even the receptionist—an absolute stunner with her expertly applied makeup, form-fitting light gray dress, and blond hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful—could have jumped off the cover of Vogue.

Headset in place, she gave them a wide, toothy smile as they approached the giant rectangular desk.

“Richards and Calibee. Please hold.” She clicked another line. “Richards and Calibee. Please hold.” A third line. “Richards and Calibee. Please hold.”

From the looks of the place and the fury with which this woman worked the phones, Jonah had picked the right lawyer.

The receptionist went back to the first call, dealt with it, and then got rid of the other two. All the while, her smile in place. Ice could form on this woman’s ass. Total pro.

She removed her headset and folded her hands on top of the desk. “I’m so sorry for the wait. How can I help you?”

Her brother turned his hazel eyes on the woman and ripped off one of the patented Steele grins. “I’m Jonah Steele. This is my sister Micki. We have an appointment with Owen Richards.”

“Ah, yes.” She quickly rose and gestured to the hallway. “Mr. Steele, Ms. Steele, welcome. He’s expecting you.”

She led them down a long, curving hallway painted the same muted beige as the reception area. She stopped at a set of glass doors and waved them into a conference room that sat ten. “Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

Jonah offered up another smile. “I think we’re good. Thank you.”

“Excellent. I’ll let Owen know you’re here.”

Ms. Vogue returned the smile, adding a little extended eye contact, and Micki nearly gagged.

Forgoing the chair at the head of the table, Micki took the second one on the left and Jonah grabbed the one beside her. She slid into the supple white leather—who was crazy enough to do white in an office?—appreciating the softness of the obviously pricey chairs yet still feeling as if she soiled the place.

“Jonah, I feel like a homeless person in here.”

“Don’t worry about it. That’s what’s awesome about being rich. Nobody gives me shit about how I dress anymore.”

She laughed. “A perk to be sure.”

The glass doors swung open and a guy no older than forty with bright red hair and freckles strode in. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and a red tie with—hold on, was that Snoopy? This was Jonah’s shark? A guy wearing a Snoopy tie?

“Hi. I’m Owen Richards.”

He held his hand to Micki—ladies first—and then Jonah. Already she liked this guy.

Jonah stood and shook hands with his new lawyer, then returned to his seat. Owen ditched his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of the chair at the head of the table and then shocked the heck out of Micki by taking the seat across from her rather than the I’m-in-charge one he’d just set his jacket on.

She glanced at Jonah. “Seriously, I like him already.”

Flipping open his portfolio, Owen snorted. “Thank you. So, what’s up? What can I help you with?”

Where to begin? Jonah looked over at her, clearly sensed her hesitation, and sat forward. “I’ll start. You can fill in what I miss. That work?”

“Sure.”

Not that she wanted to share the entire sordid story, but moving on from Phil, and the life she left in Vegas, required it. She faced Owen again, took in his kind face and freckles and the Snoopy tie.

It all registered.

Like Gage, the apple-cheeked look worked for him. For a defense attorney, who probably spent his days carving up witnesses, it was a brilliant disguise. Prosecutors, and guys like Phil, would take one gander at Owen and assume they’d trample him.

Micki grabbed Jonah’s arm. “Wait. I need to say something first.” He nodded and she went back to Owen. “I want you to know that we were young, really young, when all this started. I’ve made bad decisions along the way.”

“Hey,” Jonah said, “you don’t—”

“No. It’s true. I meant well, but I screwed this whole thing up. Jonah has never done anything wrong.”

Owen dropped his pen and held out his hand. “Give me a dollar.”

Angling his hip up, Jonah slid his wallet from his back pocket. “All I have is hundreds.”

Micki laughed. “You are such a billionaire.”

“First off,” Owen said, “whose lawyer am I?”

Jonah waggled his thumb. “Hers.” He handed her a crisp bill. “Give that to your lawyer.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Micki said as she handed over the cash.

“No. You won’t. After what you’ve done all these years, I owe you at least this much.”

Owen pocketed the money. “That’s your first installment on my $15,000 retainer. Everything you tell me is protected by attorney-client privilege.”

Fifteen thousand. This time, Micki gagged. She might have even done it out loud because both Owen and Jonah shot her a look.

“Look,” Owen said, “I’m your lawyer now. You’ll pay me a ton of money to help you get out of whatever jam you’re in. I’ll go to war for you. The only thing I ask is that you don’t lie to me. If you do, I’m cutting you loose. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Micki said.

“Got it,” Jonah added.

“Good. Now tell me everything. And don’t call me sir.”

Ninety minutes and no less than a dozen pages of notes later, Owen set his pen down and sat back.

“What do you think?” Jonah asked.

“First, Jonah, I’m going to recommend you to someone I trust to represent you. It would be a conflict of interest for me to take on both of you.”

Jonah nodded. “No problem. I figured that.”

“Then I think Phil Flynn needs to be brought down, but one thing at a time.” He held one finger up. “The video. You said he sent you only part of it. Can you get the rest?”

If her attempts to hack into his server hadn’t been a bust, maybe. Micki shook her head. “Doubtful.”

“The DNA could be a problem. Will the victim—”

“Tessa,” Jonah said.

“Will Tessa give a statement exonerating you?”

“I could ask.”

Micki cocked her head. “You know how to find her?”

Jonah shrugged. “At Steele Trap. I brought her on as a consultant before I sold it.”

At that, Micki simply gawked. “You gave her a job? Really? I didn't know that.”

“What's your point?”

Huh. Now who was the secretive one?

“We have to be careful with this,” Owen said. “We don’t want it looking like you gave her the job to keep her quiet.”

“Hell, no.”

“And the assault happened in Buncombe County?”

“Yes,” Micki said. “In Asheville. Why?”

“The DA and I started out in the public defender’s office together. Five years into it he jumped the aisle.”

He knew the DA. All around it seemed Jonah picked the right guy.

“That’s handy,” Jonah said.

Owen tapped his notepad and ran his hand over his chin.

While he mulled things over, Micki leaned forward. “If Tessa agrees to tell the DA that Jonah didn’t do anything, can we get him out of this?”

“He’ll have to talk to his lawyer, but if you’re asking my opinion, it’s possible. Once he’s cleared, if Tessa decides she wants to press charges, she’s free to do so. I’ll tell you though, the DA can press charges on his own if he wants.”

Jonah groaned. “We’ll need to tell her that. She’s been through a lot.”

“Jonah, she’s our chance to clear you.”

“I know, Mick, but she’s built a life and I’m not tearing that away from her. It has to be her decision. Just…let me deal with that.”

Whatever Jonah’s relationship with Tessa was, clearly he felt comfortable enough—as comfortable as one could anyway—to at least approach her on the subject. Micki nodded. “You take care of Tessa and I’ll handle Phil.” She faced her new lawyer. “How do I get rid of him?”

“I have an idea. You probably won’t like it.”