Breaking Free (Steele Ridge Book 5)

by Adrienne Giordano

  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.”

  17

  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?”

&nbs
p; “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?”