Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) (40 page)

The guard nodded and the doors lock mechanism opened with a loud clink, a buzzer sounded and Mikala pushed her way into a long silent hall. She pressed her back to the wall and inhaled deeply, opening her constricted lungs to take in air, air that she found in short supply while she was locked in the visitor’s room with Stiles.

A voice called out to her, “This way please.”

She straightened, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her t-shirt and made her way along the hall. The only sounds were her shoes echoing as she walked to the exit and her heart pounding in her ears.

The atmosphere changed once the door opened and a strong sense of accomplishment, resolution and pride engulfed her thoughts.

“Done,” she whispered.

***

Landon was seated on the steps outside totally engrossed by something on his phone when Mikala shot through the double doors plunking her ass down beside him.

“That was quick.”

“Yep.”

“What did he want?”

Mikala rested her head on his large bicep. “I think he wanted me to forgive him,”

“And?”

“I basically told him to go fuck himself, eat shit and rot in hell.”

Landon held up his fist, “You go girl,” he said, waiting until Mikala made a fist and bumped knuckles.

After opening the car door, Landon waited for Mikala to have a seat and leaned in with his hands on the cars roof. “By the way, uh…Mason’s home…and he knows.”

Mikala’s eyes bugged out and she threw her head back on the seats headrest. Her heart was beating like a steel drum and she was so close to throwing up she had to clamp her hand over her mouth. “I’m a dead woman.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“You don’t know Mason.”

“I’ve known the man for over fifteen years,” his words stopped short, he closed her door rounding the car and climbing in to the driver’s seat. He clicked his seatbelt into place and sat with his hands clutched to the steering wheel. “I’m your body guard, what’s he going to do?”

Mikala sunk into her seat. “Drive slow, okay?”

***

“Landon…Mikala.” Mason addressed each, setting his beer bottle on the bar and standing. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’m good,” Landon said, stepping forward awkwardly.

“Mikala?” Mason asked.

“I’ll get myself water,” Mikala answered.

Mikala noted Mason’s use of her proper name, twice in a row. She was most definitely a dead woman.

“Allow me. You’ve had a busy day.” Mason narrowed his eyes, fetching a glass of ice and a bottle of Perrier from behind the bar, slowly pouring the bubbling water into the glass.

“Please, join me.” He gestured to a nearby table.

He was acting all smooth as silk, but Mikala was not unfamiliar with the uglier take-no-shit side of Mason Reed. Even though Mason was all gruff and grumbly and his bark was most definitely worse than his bite, she was glad Landon was locked at her hip.

“At least you had brains enough to take Landon here with you,” he said tipping his beer bottle towards London.

By the way Mason was conducting himself and keeping his temper carefully locked away, Mikala knew that conceding was in her best interest. Mason would eat her alive if she attempted to pussy foot around the subject of a certain inmate visitation.

“It’s not like I was going to meet him in a dark alley somewhere,” Mikala snarled back, prepared to give as much as she got.

“What was so important that you felt you had to sneak around behind my back?” Mason asked.

“I was not sneaking behind your back,” Mikala narrowed her eyes. “I was going to tell you…when we got home.”

“How do you think that’s not sneaking around?” Mason snarled. “You leave here knowing that you’re going to visit that lunatic and you don’t tell me, that my dear is sneaky.”

“I’m sorry Mason, but if I told you what I was doing, you would have stopped me.”

“Fucking right I would have,” Mason sat forward clamping his hand around her wrist. “That son-of-a-bitch has caused enough bullshit in your life; he doesn’t deserve another minute of your time.”

“No he didn’t, but I deserved a minute to tell
him
a few things,” Mikala pulled her hand free. “And like it or not, I
will
be there when Stiles is sentenced.”

“And I’ll be there with her,” Landon said. He stood dipping his hand into his pocket, taking Mikala’s hand in his and slipping her engagement ring back on her finger. “Every step of the way, until Mikala is free of Ross Stiles and the nightmares he has caused her, until she can sleep at night and she doesn’t need me anymore.” He looked to Mikala. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Lando, I never said I didn’t support Mik, it’s just not right keeping me in the dark.” Mason said.

“Then make yourself available man. If the woman’s too scared to tell you, you’re the one in the wrong. Do something about it.”

Mason’s brows raised as the brazen words that Landon assaulted him with seeped into his stubborn brain. Regrettably he knew London was right, that he had this stern overbearing attitude that kept people at a distance, he just didn’t realize he was keeping Mikala there too.

“Sugar, I fucked up again, but so did you,” Mason somewhat confessed, after watching London leave. “Come here.” Mason slid his chair back and tapped his knees.

As angry as Mikala wanted to be, it simply wasn’t in her, she needed to feel Mason’s big strong arms wrapped around her. She settled her rear end onto his lap allowing his arms to circle her waist, and nuzzled her face into his neck.

“Please baby, never be afraid to tell me anything,” he said, lifting her chin so he could see her beautiful eyes. “I want you to come to me no matter what. I want to share the good, the bad and everything in between. We can’t have secrets and survive. Promise me.”

With a glazed stare Mikala spoke, “I promise. But I need you to try and understand.” Mikala nuzzled into his neck again touching her lips to the light stubble on his jaw. “This is something I have to do Mason, I’m never going to be able to relax and get on with my life, until I know Stiles can’t hurt me anymore. I have to do this and
you
have to back off.”

“I’ll back off a few feet, that’s as far as I can manage. You’re my world, sugar. I can’t stand at a distance and just watch. I’d never forgive myself if something happened because I was kept in the dark. I need that much, agreed?”

For a grueling few moments, Mason waited while Mikala sat silent. She was every bit as pigheaded as he was, with every bit as much determination and desire as he had, he loved and hated that about her. He could rip his hair out at times, wanting to throw her over his knee and spank her like a naughty child, and at other times all he wanted was to get her body beneath his and make sweet slow love to her. Mikala simply infuriated him.

“As long as you hold my hand, and never let go.” Mikala entwined her fingers with his.

***

A handful of people sat in the large courtroom while sentencing for several other prisoners took place ahead of Ross Stiles. He sat in a boxed off area to the right side of the courtroom and Mikala could feel the eerie continuous stare he had fixed on her. Her focus remained on the judge seated behind his grand podium as he sentenced each prisoner and then instilled his own punishing wisdom upon each, before slamming his gavel onto the sounding block. Each time the sound resonated in the air, Mikala involuntarily jumped and Mason’s hand squeezed a bit tighter.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” he whispered.

Finally she peeled her eyes away long enough to look into Mason’s. “Never more sure,” she said, turning her gaze straight ahead.

“Ross Stiles, rise.” A bailiff ordered.

Mikala forced herself to remain focused on the judge while her heart anxiously raced and her head buzzed with a new pain to join the old ache from two days prior to this one.

Judge Weiler who Mikala estimated to be approximately sixty, with a full head of white curly hair and a permanently etched scowl across his forehead, took a sip of water, cleared his throat and slid on his reading glasses. He allowed them to rest precariously on the tip of his nose as he read aloud Ross Stiles’ charges. Once he was finished, the room sat silent as he allowed a dramatic pause to permeate the courtroom as he studied Stiles’ face.

Weiler followed Stiles’ gaze to Mikala and narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Stiles,” he said, with an unsympathetic demand. “Eyes front and center and keep them there, am I understood?”

He turned to the judge without a word.

“It has been brought to my attention that you have been in contact with one of your victims, a Miss Mikala Santino. It is also my understanding that you did this against advice of counsel. Might I suggest in the future Mr. Stiles, that you take counsel’s suggestions seriously, for the good of all involved? I am taking it upon myself to grant an immediate Cease and Desist order as well as an injunction ordering you to establish absolutely no contact in any shape or form, whether it be by phone, by letter, or even carrier pigeon, with Miss Mikala Santino. Should you fail to comply you risk reevaluation of your sentence and additional time will be added. That being said…” Judge Weiler met Mikala’s eyes and a tiny smile crossed her mouth as her way of saying thank you.

He continued on with a verbal backlashing, the likes of which she had never heard before. There was style and polished refinement embedded in each word, the kind of insulting panache Mikala wished she possessed. He pretty much told Stiles he was a slimy, scum eating bastard, that should live the rest of his days in a dank, vile, virus ridden environment with no contact what-so-ever, except for with a mischief of hungry rats and other vermin.

“Therefore I sentence you to the maximum the law will allow, life imprisonment...”

Those were the last words Mikala heard before tears started streaming down her face and Mason wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Landon handed her a tissue, she wiped away her tears and eyeballed Stiles.

Stiles seemed oblivious to the goings on in the courtroom as he mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to Mikala and she shook her head and mouthed ‘fuck you’ back. His eyes tapered and a malicious glare curled his lips. A cold shiver ran up her spine, uncomfortable she squirmed in her seat. The last straw was the moment he blew her a kiss. Mikala leapt to her feet and ran from the room as observers gaped and gasped.

Mason was the first to burst into the hallway followed closely by Landon, he looked left then right to an empty hall, then spotted the door to the ladies room across the hall. He knocked gently before waiting a moment and walking in. Landon erected himself across the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

Mikala was patting her face with a wet paper towel and met Mason’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “He’s not finished with me, Mason.”

“He was ordered to leave you alone,” Mason said, moving behind her and taking hold of her hips turning her. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Twenty five years isn’t long enough, besides, do you really think he gives a shit if they add a few more years to a life sentence?” she asked, putting her arms around his neck and kissing his chin.

“Think about it baby, what can he possibly do from behind prison bars? Nothing. It’s not like he has mob connections or something. Stiles acted alone. The man is nuts, end of,” Mason said, holding her quietly. “It’s over.”

“I’m hungry,” Mikala announced.

“And I’m happy you are, since you haven’t eaten a thing in days. What say we grab Lando and head to Grillers for a huge steak dinner to celebrate?”

“Okay,” she said. “But I don’t want to celebrate this,” she circled a finger in the air. “I want to celebrate our upcoming nuptials and the fact that there’s nothing left to do.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

***

“I’ll be up in a few minutes, I have something to take care of first,” Mikala called out to Mason, as he scaled the stairs two by two to the apartment.

“Don’t be long. I have plans for my fiancé!” Mason yelled, over the music from the club.

Mikala rapped lightly on the door and waited.

“Come in!” Landon shouted.

“Whatcha doing?” Mikala asked, glancing into the room.

“Reading, come in, what’s up?” Landon put his book aside as Mikala climbed onto his bed and settled beside him.

“You know I’ll always need you Landon, you’re one of my favorite people, and you’re my friend.”

“I know it,” he said, and looked at her confused.

“Okay, it’s just…the other day when Mason gave us shit, you said something about me not needing you anymore,” she sighed. “You’re not going anywhere are you?”

“Not today, not tomorrow or the next day that I know of,” he laughed and shouldered her. “Not anytime soon, there’s a certain bartender I have my eyes set on, remember?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.”

“And…I plan on spending an outrageous amount of time schmoozing with said bartender at a wedding reception in two weeks.”

Mikala smiled and eagerly hugged his bicep. “About fucking time too!”

“It
is
time,” he agreed. “I figure by the end of the evening, Carl’s either going to admit he’s gay or I will have him seriously considering the possibility. The man doesn’t stand a chance.”

“If you need any help,” Mikala offered.

“You concentrate on marrying Mason and leave Carl to me.”

“Speaking of,” Mikala crawled from the bed, straightening herself in the mirror. “My man is waiting upstairs for his fiancé. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll turn up the volume on the TV, have fun,” Landon teased, and Mikala wiggled her eyebrows smiling.

The door closed and Landon sat with his back against the padded headboard, imagining Carl wrapped in his arms while they danced at Mik and Mason’s wedding.

“Two weeks,” Landon said, to his empty room. “That’s when I flip your life upside down, Carl.”