Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (34 page)

“Panties, and some other stuff,” she muttered.

He walked down the hallway into her darkened bedroom. As they entered that darkened room, she felt her heart start pounding hard, where her chest lay against his. It felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Mason walked steadily into the bathroom and flipped on the light. He set her down on the floor in front of her dresser, and steadied her underneath the bright light until she was stable on her feet as he whispered, “Babe, get what you need.” Then walking back to the doorway, he stood with his back to her.

Dropping the blanket to the ground, she grabbed her brush. Pulling out a pair of panties, she slipped them on, followed by a clean pair of sweatpants. She picked out another pair of panties and a clean shirt, jeans and socks, and then stepped into her sneakers. Walking around to Mason, she lifted her arms and he picked her up again, cradling her against his chest.

“Did you call Daniel and tell him?” she asked.

Mason shook his head. “Not yet. Soon as we’re safe at home, we’ll call him for you.”

***

Daniel leaned back in the chair behind his desk, sighing deeply as he rubbed his palms over his face. He’d been playing catch-up with paperwork all day, but he intended on taking Mica out for dinner tomorrow, and wanted to have a clean desk and nothing work-related on his mind.

Since returning from Milwaukee, they’d gone out several times
—always with Rebel chaperones per Mason’s orders. It didn’t give him the intimate setting he wanted with her, but it was at least an opportunity to spend time together and get to know Mica. He found himself looking forward to hearing her laughter, watching her face light up with humor and joy as outrageous stories passed around the table from the Rebels, each story more improbable than the next, until it was clear they were spinning tales to make her laugh.

Reaching across
the desk to grab his phone, he saw he’d missed a call from Mason. Hitting redial, he leaned back again, waiting for the call to connect. “Daniel,” he heard Mason say, “need you to come to my house, man, right the fuck now. When can you be here?”

“What’s
up, Mason?” he asked, thinking it was late for a grill party. “I can be there in thirty minutes, if the traffic isn’t bad.”

“Then get here, fucker,” Mason growled
. “Ray was in Mica’s house.”

Daniel slowly sat up straight in the chair, placing
the hand that wasn’t holding his phone palm-down on the desk, absently noticing it was trembling. “What happened?” he choked out. “Is she okay?” It felt like time stretched and elongated, turning seconds into minutes or hours before Mason responded.

“She’ll be okay,” he said, “but she’s asking for you. Come see her, man. My house, back door is unlocked.” The call terminated abruptly without a conversational sign-off, but Daniel was already on his feet, moving quickly to the door.

Pulling into the alley that Mason and Mica shared, he was hard-pressed to find a parking space; there were bikes everywhere. Driving up into the yard, he turned off the car and took off at a run, slapping the door closed behind him. Pushing through the gate into the backyard, he found more than a dozen Rebels sitting or standing near the fire-pit. Some of them he knew, and he acknowledged their greetings with a raised hand as he went straight into the house.

Seeing Tug in the kitchen, he bared his teeth and growled, “
Where is she?” Wordlessly, Tug pointed towards the front of the house, where the bedrooms were. Daniel moved through more Rebels milling around inside the house, and found Mason in the master bedroom sitting on the side of his bed.

Looking up, Mason caught Daniel’s eye as he came into the room
, and pointed at the woman curled in the middle of the bed asleep, her dark hair fanning out across the pillows. Mason stood, walking towards the door, obviously wanting Daniel to accompany him out of the room. Daniel ignored him, reaching out with a hand to softly stroke the hair back from her face.

He saw the bruising on her neck, and there were small circles of purple blooming along her jaw. Someone had held her face so tightly they had bruised her with their fingertips, and then they had tried to choke the life out of her. He rounded on Mason, nodding that he was ready to leave the room now. Arms held stiffly at his sides, he followed Mason out, unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists.

Grinding his teeth together, he stayed quiet until they entered the kitchen, and then he ground out the question he’d wanted to ask since he got there. “How did this happen, Mason? You said you could keep her safe. You said she’d be better off with you and your men than with me, and I went along with it. I allowed her to remain here,” he swept one hand out and pointed behind him towards the bedroom, “and that was a fucking mistake on my part.”

Mason’s face tightened as Daniel ranted
; crossing his arms across his chest, he waited for Daniel to wind down, knowing this came from fear and not disrespect. “Who fucked up, Mason? Who was on the schedule for tonight and, despite your trust in them, failed to keep her safe?” Daniel’s voice rose and he heard mutterings coming from the Rebels as they gathered in the doorways to the kitchen.

Holding up one hand, Mason tried to stop the accusations, but Daniel talked over him
. “She needs a doctor, man. Why did you not call one? She’s hurt, almost as bad as before, so why,” he took another step towards Mason, standing nearly chest-to-chest with the big man, “is she in your fucking bed?”

“You done, man?” Mason
asked impassively. “I got answers for you, but you gotta fucking stop talking to hear me.”

“You got fucking answers
, then spit them out,” Daniel shouted, “because I want to know everything.”

“It was me,” he heard a voice
confess from behind him, and then a different voice from beside him, “No, it was me.” Turning, he saw Slate and Tug standing in the kitchen, guilt weighing their shoulders and etched into their faces. Slate’s face had a huge cut on it, and was bandaged awkwardly with sterile-strips to hold the edges of the wound together.

Slate continued, “
We cleared the house, but he came in through the spare bedroom window and waited for her to go to bed. He nearly killed her, man, and then got away, because I’m an arrogant fucktard. She’s a fucking treasure, man, and nearly left the world darker tonight.”

Mason said, “
She didn’t want a doctor. We got one of the brothers to look at her; he’s a medic. Daniel, the injuries you saw aren’t all of it. She’s got a broken rib, internal bruising, and he kicked her between the legs, so she’s swollen there too. Worst is, he fucked with her mind, man. He was in her house, in her bedroom.”

Tug nodded
. “She hid under the bed, and screamed when Tucker touched her foot. Her face was so afraid, Daniel. You’re right; I failed her.”

Fuck, this was harder when there were
such regretful faces on the people he wanted to be pissed at. “You stopped him, kept her alive,” Daniel told the men, “so that’s got to count for something.” Receiving brief nods in response, he turned again to Mason. “She’s not staying here.” He shook his head. “She’s coming home with me, Mason, as soon as she wakes up.”

Widening his stance and frowning
, Mason was clearly not in favor of that idea. “I have a good alarm system in my house, and cameras. I’ll have brothers here all the time, like we did, but the environment can be more easily controlled. She’s staying here.”

“The
fuck she is, Mason,” he yelled. “She’s coming home with me, not sleeping in your fucking bed. I have the same set-up, but better. Perimeter alarms, external security measures, panic room—I can keep her safe. I can make it so nothing bad happens. I want her in my home. I can protect her.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?
” came a raspy voice from behind him, and he turned to see Mica standing in the doorway.

“No,”
growled both Mason and Daniel, and she laughed soundlessly, holding a hand to her throat.

“I can stay at home
—” she started.

Daniel interrupted her, “Mica,
beautiful, I want you with me. You’ll have your own room, but I want you with me.”

Daniel saw Mason take a half step back,
and saw his lips thin and press together as they waited for her to respond. “Daniel,” she said, “I’ll be okay at home.”

He shook his head, smiling
. “Mica, might as well give it up. This is a lost argument already.”

With a sigh, she nodded
. “Okay.” Daniel looked back over at Mason and saw something flash across his face—an emotion that looked suspiciously like grief and loss.

42 -
            
Movie night

Following the vicious beating from Nelms, Mica stayed at Daniel’s home as she recovered. He’d picked her up from Mason’s, and settled her into his guest suite. Samuel had engaged additional security, and they had access to Rebels as needed, which made them both feel better.

As she slowly mended, Daniel spent long days with her, just resting when she slept and talking when she felt like it. He touched her often, sometimes trailing fingertips down her arm, or pressing a hand to her lower back as he directed her through the house. It was never enough, but he reminded himself of her injuries, even as he watched the bruises slowly fade.

They grew comfortable with each other, and developed a routine. On the days he had to leave and go to work or had games, she’d be waiting for him when he returned, and together they’d watch whatever movie she picked out. Sitting side-by-side on the couch, she’d lean into him, and Daniel would steal soft kisses throughout the movie.

Tonight, when Daniel came home, he found her dancing in the kitchen, playing Randy Montana’s “1,000 Faces
”
, and he’d watched her do a slow two-step around the room for a few seconds before he swooped in behind her. Wrapping an arm carefully around her waist, he pressed her back against him, keeping up the rhythm she’d established. “You look so good, beautiful.”

She turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. “I’m glad you’re home,” she whispered against his lips.

Stepping back, he asked, “What movie did you pick for us tonight?”

With a mischievous look on her face, she said, “I was thinking Titanic again,” and laughed as he groaned.

“Not again, Mica,” he begged, “Please, pick something else.”

“Why don’t you pick the movie tonight?” she offered. “We’ve watched all my favorites, I think.”

Daniel tilted his head, looking over at her. “I have an idea for one; let me see if I still have it.” He grabbed a bottle of water and headed down to the media room, opening up a cabinet of DVDs along one wall. Scanning back and forth, he saw the movie he wanted, and with an, “Ah-ha,” he grabbed it.

“Sit on the couch,” he directed her when she came down the stairs. He finished inserting the disc and grabbed the remote, moving to sit next to her. Pressing a button on the remote, he settled back and draped an arm around her, pulling her snugly into his side.

He kissed the top of her head as she asked, “What movie did you pick?”

“One of my favorites,” he laughed, “
Secretary
, with James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal. Forget Shades, Spader is the original Mr. Grey.”

Turning her head, Mica froze him with a look, and he wondered if he’d offended her, but then he saw the little quirk of her lips and laughed. “I only read them, because Jess wouldn’t leave me alone,” she defended, and he threw his head back, laughing again.

Damn
, thought Daniel. He’d forgotten how hot some of the scenes in this movie were as he surreptitiously adjusted himself again. Tugging Mica closer, he watched as she shifted her thighs back and forth, and he realized she was as turned on by the movie as he was.

Cupping her chin in his hand, he turned her face to his and kissed her, his tongue questing for entrance along the seam of her lips. She shifted, turned, and opened to him, kissing him back with a hunger that surprised him. His tongue slid along hers, tangling and then thrusting into her mouth. Slanting his lips across hers again, he drew in a shuddering breath. “Baby,” he whispered, “you taste so good, like mint and Mica.”

Pinching the fabric of the sleeve covering her arm, he pulled it downward and slid the collar of her sweater over, exposing her collarbone and shoulder. Kissing along her skin, he heard her gasp and looked up at her. She was watching the movie again, and when he glanced over, he saw it was the scene where Maggie’s character masturbates to a fantasy. “Mica,” he whispered, his lips never leaving her flesh, “come here.” He pulled her into his lap, draping her legs along the couch cushion, where she’d been sitting.

He pushed her sweater up, lifting it over her head, leaving her breasts covered with her lacy bra. Turning his hands to the waistband of her jeans, he stroked down along the seam between her legs with one hand, while unbuttoning the fly with the other. Tugging them over her hips, he slid them off her legs and dropped them on the floor.

He faced her forward on his lap and spread her legs, sliding his palms up the inside of her thighs. “Mica,” he murmured, watching her face, “look at the TV. Isn’t what she’s doing beautiful? See her face?” He stroked his thumbs across the fabric covering her core, and she gasped again. “Give me your hand, baby.”