After a heck of a long day, Gage sat at his kitchen table, opening the only outstanding e-mail. Thanks to his newly created organizing method, the growing number of daily e-mails he received had been downgraded from hateful to barely hateful. Prioritizing came in the form of color-coding. Red equaled hot and to be handled ASAP. In between were three other colors leading to blue. Blue he eventually got to, but not all that quickly. Only so many hours in the day, kids.

This particular message he’d marked red. Flaming red.

The cement company Britt hired to build the walls separating the firing ranges was running behind and instead of showing up first thing tomorrow morning, they were looking at Thursday. Terrific. Two days late.

Adding this to the Steele family drama would send Reid into a psychotic break. For that alone, Gage should get a bonus. Call it the keeping-psychos-controlled incentive. However, if he delivered this information to Reid before anyone else, he'd control the message.

And minimize the shit-fit.

“I picked the wrong damned day to stop sniffing glue,” Gage muttered, mimicking one of his favorite movie lines.

“Me too.”

Startled by Micki’s voice, he snapped his head up and immediately regretted it when the room flipped. He closed his eyes, drew a long breath, and let his swaying vision settle.

“Sorry,” she said. “I knocked. I wouldn’t have come in, but…”

“No,” he said, “it’s fine. I was working. Didn’t hear you.”

She turned back, gestured to the front door. “I can go if you’re busy.”

Go? That was the last thing he wanted from her.

He stood and walked to the archway separating the kitchen and the foyer. “You’re not going anywhere.” He dropped a kiss on her lips. Nothing too crazy, just a casual hello.

Pulling back from the kiss, she tugged on his T-shirt. “Everything okay? You looked frustrated when I walked in.”

“I am frustrated.”

Huh. How about that? Before his injury, he’d never have admitted that. He’d have just dealt with the problem and made it go away. Back then, he’d have felt like a pussy if he complained. Now? Complaining to—or maybe confiding in—someone wasn’t so bad.

“Oh, yay, Captain America. You are human. Tell me about it. Please.”

“It’s nothing. Contractor running behind.”

“I’d say that’s something when you’re opening soon. And then there’s dealing with Reid—and of course, Britt—because they are sure to be at war over something like that. So, yes, you’re entitled.”

He grabbed her hand and curled his fingers around hers. “How about we forget it and I buy you dinner. We can go into Asheville if you want. Get out of here for a while.”

“Actually, I just came from Asheville. The attorney Jonah hired is there.”

“He got the appointment that fast?”

“I don’t know if he got it or forced it. Being a billionaire has its perks.”

“Good meeting?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Damn, he hoped she did. Micki, with her secrets, made him nuts. As much as he didn’t want to be in the middle of everyone’s problems, she was the exception. Which, intellectually speaking, sucked because he’d handed over his own carefully held secret to a woman he barely knew. A woman who’d spent her adult life throwing open the proverbial closets on people.

She met his gaze. “That’s why I’m here. To talk. I couldn’t decide if I should just deal with it on my own or ask your advice.” She smiled up at him. “It’s new to me. All this asking for help.”

Good for her. “I know. But I’m glad you did. What’d the lawyer say?”

She blew out a breath. “He said I can be Queen for a Day.”

Gage waved her to the living room, waited for her to sit on the sofa, then dropped beside her, angling his body to face her. “What does Queen for a Day mean?”

“My lawyer, the one Jonah is paying for—”

“Don’t worry about that. He doesn’t care.”

“How do you know?”

Gage shrugged. “I know enough about your brother to know he’d do anything for his family. And he doesn’t stress about money. At least when it comes to the training center. Most of the time. He leaves that up to Reid. Reid watches every penny.”

How did he know so much? About her family. That whole thing about Jonah not stressing over money? She had no idea. Her twin brother and she hadn’t a clue how he felt about his finances.

Now that she’d be staying, she’d get to know her twin again.

“I won’t be a freeloader.”

“So pay him back. What’s Queen for a Day?”

“The lawyer—Owen—wants to call the US Attorney.”

“Oh, boy. That’s federal.”

She nodded. “Yep. I did a little research on our way home. With all the work I’ve done for Phil, I could go to prison for thirty years.”

“Don’t get rattled by what you find on the Internet. Federal sentences are all over the board and judges have discretion. Hell, if a judge wants to, he could give you probation.”

“That’s what Owen is hoping. He said a Queen for a Day agreement is for people who cooperate in a criminal case. What Phil does easily qualifies as criminal. Between racketeering, witness tampering, computer fraud, and, let’s not forget, destruction of evidence, I can stick a fork in him.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

Was there? She honestly didn’t know. The entire ride home with Jonah had been filled with silence. She’d been too busy asking herself endless questions—did she have the guts to do it? To be a rat?

To separate a man from his family?

Just as he’d done to her.

After all Phil had done to tear her from Steele Ridge, how could she not be sure?

She scooted closer and rested her head on Gage's shoulder. Allowing herself, for just a few seconds, to be still and not think. To enjoy snuggling with a man she hoped to see a whole lot more of in the future.

He kissed the top of her head. “You're okay. Just talk to me. This Queen for a Day. What does it entail?”

The truly fun part… “I’d go into the US Attorney’s office and admit everything about Phil and his business. For that one day, no matter what I tell them, they won’t prosecute me. After that, if they think they can make a case against Phil—which, believe me, they will—I enter into a cooperation agreement. It’s called a proffer agreement.”

A hmm noise came from his throat and she brought her fingers up, running the backs of them against his neck. “What are you thinking? Say it. Please. That's why I came here.”

“Would you have to plead guilty to something?”

“Owen said it’s an information case, rather than an indictment. If I plead guilty, the case doesn’t have to go before a grand jury. No trial.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Did he have six months? Even then she wasn’t sure she’d truly understand her own feelings. “I’m…conflicted. Not about pleading guilty. That’s a weird relief. To just be done with it. But I'm hung up on being a squealer. Phil calls them rats.”

“Uh, Phil is an asshole.”

“I know. But he’s been my asshole for ten years.” She waved it off. “As much as I hate the idea of cooperating, I love it, too. For the first time, I can see a way out. A chance to live my life the way I choose.” She finally sat up and met his gaze. “I want that.”

I want you. She couldn’t say it. Not yet. One thing at a time, because if she went to jail, she didn’t anticipate Captain America waiting around for his convict girlfriend.

He ran one finger down the side of her face and over her jaw. “For what it’s worth, not a lot of eighteen-year-olds would have made the sacrifice you did. I’d say you deserve to live your life the way you want.”

“I wanted to save my brother.”

“And you did. It’s time to let it go. If that means cooperating with the feds, you do it. Your family will support you.”

“What about you? Will you support me?”

“I’m sitting here, aren’t I?”

Yes. He was. Gage Barber. Honorable, heroic. The light to her darkness.

Crazy.

She leaned in, kissed him gently, let her lips linger. “Thank you. You’re…amazing.”

“Honey, you’ve spent too many years around scumbags. But thank you.” He kissed her again, then sat back, his mind clearly working on something.

“Gage, what’s bugging you?”

“Thinking is all. What happens after you plead guilty? I mean, you’re cooperating, but plenty of cooperating witnesses serve jail time. What’s the prosecutor recommending as far as sentencing?”

That was the second half. The gamble. “Owen said after the proffer agreement, if I’ve fully cooperated, the US Attorney will write a recommendation letter to the judge. It’s called a Five K letter and it outlines everything I’ve done to assist the government. At that point, the judge decides my sentence. He can give me probation or…” She dipped her head. “Or send me to prison.”

“What does the lawyer think?”

“He thinks I could get probation.”

“Phil would be locked up and you’d be free. Sounds like a win-win.”

Of course it did. Only, Micki hadn’t experienced a lot of win-wins and when it came to Phil, she wouldn’t count on anything. “Phil has a far reach. Prison won’t keep him contained.”

“He won’t get to you. I can promise that. With the resources you have behind you, you’ll be safe.”

When Gage said it, she believed it. But was that all starry-eyed want? The fairy tale she’d never gotten. Prince Charming and all that bullshit.

For her.

Why not?

“You think I should do it?”

“I do. Unless you can come up with another way to get rid of Phil, if you want your life back, it’s the only option. Running is off the table, right?”

Staring at this man, listening to him talk about keeping her safe, running was most definitely off the table. “Yes. That idea came from desperation. He’d either find me or I’d be on the move constantly.”

Fucking Phil. Once again backing her against a wall.

She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do it anymore. She’d given him way too much of herself. It had to stop. All the hiding and secrecy. If she took the deal, though, she’d be forced to admit her guilt and make amends.

It’ll gut me.

Was it such a bad thing? To be rid of all the pent-up shame and rebuild herself? Maybe, if she got really lucky, Gage Barber could be part of the renovation.

She studied the wall straight ahead where the seams from a bad patch job—one of Britt’s early attempts—made her smile.

“See that wall? Grif put Reid’s head through it one night and Britt tried to patch it before Mom got home. Poor Britt, always fixing everyone’s problems.” She swung back to Gage. “Kinda like you.” She patted his leg, leaned over, and pecked his cheek.

“What was that for?”

“For helping me. For being my sounding board. I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?”

“I need a fresh start and this will get it for me.” She lifted her chin and smiled up at him. “It’s no fairy tale, but hey, I’ll get to be a Queen for a Day.”

Gage watched Micki put on her show. Her I-can-do-this show. This girl—woman—had lived one hell of a life so far. “You know,” he said, running his hand over the side of her head, “you told me I was amazing. Really, I think you’re the amazing one. Look at what you’ve done. What you’re about to do. That takes a spine. You could be on the floor wailing about the injustice of it all, but not you. You own it. I love that about you.”

Love. That sneaky little word didn’t enter his vocabulary too often. By his way of thinking, all kinds of love existed. Sibling love, parental love, romantic love. That last one had eluded him most of his thirty-one years. He never minded. If it happened, it happened. Now, though, looking at Micki Steele, he might have lost his mind because romantic love didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

His mother would lose it. Hey, Mom, meet my hacker girlfriend who’s spent the past ten years breaking a multitude of federal laws.

Jesus.

In front of him, though, Micki’s lips spread into a flashing smile that was apparently cemented into Steele family DNA. They all had that spark. And it was killer.

He reached his fingers up, dragged them under her chin, along the silky skin there, heating up the space between them. He loved touching her. When he touched her, something changed. The hard edges smoothed out and the hyper-standoffish Micki softened, yielding just enough to let him believe that he made a difference in her life. Micki, Micki, Micki.

“Gage?”

He stopped his exploration and flattened his hand, curving his fingers over her neck and stroking her hammering pulse with his thumb. But his eyes were on her lips, and his brain? Well, that horny bastard was busy coming up with all the things he wanted to do with those lips.

“Gage?”

He snapped his gaze to hers.

“What?”

“Is it crazy for me to want you inside me?”

“Is it crazy for me to want to be inside you?”

That earned him another small grin, but he’d gotten to know her cues, that little tell in the way she drew her eyebrows together, that something was up with her.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” she said.

He dipped his head, ran his lips over hers, dotting kisses along her jawline to her neck, his tongue flicking over the delicate spot behind her ear. “Honey, it’s a little late for that now.” She tilted her head sideways, giving him more access. “Atta girl,” he said.

Her arms came around him, pulling him closer—breasts, legs, all of her flush up against him—and his erection said hello in the most obvious way possible.

“Mmm,” she said. “You feel good. Everything about you. I don’t deserve you. I’ll never deserve you.”

Before he could argue, she kissed him. Absolutely fucking mauled him. With her tongue, her hands, that crazy lean body that was all legs and made him constantly imagine her wrapped around him.

Levering off the couch, he scooped her up, tucked her legs around him and carried her to the stairs, tripping on the first step but catching them both before she clocked her head. Gently, he lowered her to her back. Right on the goddamned stairs.

She went to work on his shirt, lifting the hem as the tips of her fingers connected with his stomach.

“Keep that up and we won’t make it to the bed. Again.”

“I don’t care.”

She bucked her hips, sending him into another crazy wave of lust. As much as he wanted to pound himself inside her, he wouldn’t do that. The first time he’d nailed her against a wall. This time, they’d get to his bed.

Even if it killed him.

“No,” he said. “You're about to have a long night. I want you comfortable.”